


Just Like Heaven

by prongsdeer



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Boss/Employee Relationship, CEO!Steve Rogers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, Mutual Pining, Sexual Tension, Single dad!Steve Rogers, Slow Burn, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2020-08-14 08:57:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 35,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20189656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prongsdeer/pseuds/prongsdeer
Summary: Steve Rogers doesn’t know how to have fun. He is always cold, strict and distant and unable to laugh or even smile genuinely. At least that’s what you thought until you started to get to know him and realized there’s so much more behind those beautiful eyes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> yayy new series again? hell yes. i couldn't stop myself from writing this anymore. i hope you will enjoy it!

Steve Rogers never slept in. He always woke up before the sun, went on his morning jog, did the food shopping, or ran other necessary errands while the city was still quieter. Ever since he was young, he had always liked to get everything done early instead of having to deal with them later, when he was already exhausted in every possible way.**  
**

Now, however, he slept through his alarm. More precisely, he turned it off as fast as he could before the phone slipped out of his clumsy fingers and got lost somewhere behind his nightstand. He didn’t bother with trying to find it, the thumping pain in his head quickly driving him back to sleep. It was Bucky’s birthday last night and he didn’t take no as an answer when he invited his best friends out. It had been such a long time since Steve let himself go, maybe even a decade since he last got drunk, but when he opened his eyes, he realised he was too old to drink.

A loud bang woke him up as the door of his bedroom opened, followed by tiny, fast footsteps tapping on the floor. Steve lifted his head, squinty eyes glancing at his daughter before he buried his face into the pillow again. 

“Daddy!”

Steve winced as Sarah jumped on the bed, the mattress dipping under her small weight as she crawled closer, screaming while she fell on top of him. Long chocolate brown locks tickled his cheeks, happy giggles filled his ears. The sound he always loved to hear now made his head explode. He slowly sat up, pulling Sarah with him who clutched on a folded paper. Looking down on himself, Steve saw he was still wearing the pants of his suit and a half-unbuttoned white shirt.

“Can you please stop shouting, sweetheart?” He rasped out, his mouth feeling parched and his body screaming for a glass of water. Despite how awful he felt, he couldn’t stifle a smile at the sight of the beaming little girl. 

Sarah’s big, kind blue eyes grew wide as she leaned closer to Steve and whispered, “Are you sick?”

“Something like that.” 

Steve went to kiss her cheek but he froze when he saw the blanket moving on the other side of the bed. His blood ran cold and he heard the thunder of his pulse in his ears. Was he really so drunk he brought someone home and he didn’t even remember? How could he be so irresponsible while his daughter slept a door away? His thoughts were spinning as he tried to piece the events of last night together. How was he supposed to explain to Sarah when she found a possibly naked stranger in the bed?

While Steve panicked and was just about to pick the girl up and take her out of his bedroom, Bucky peeked out from under the covers.

“Jesus Christ, Buck,” Steve let out a sigh of relief that quickly turned into a painful moan as Sarah yelled again.

“Uncle Bucky! Happy birthday!” She shifted closer, kneeling on the sheets and looking at Bucky with shining eyes.

“Aww, thank you, princess,” he said, still lying on his back as he unfolded the paper. “That’s a beautiful cat.”

Sarah furrowed her eyebrows, anger dripping from her voice. “That’s a raccoon!”

“Oh. Right. How could I not see it,” Bucky replied sarcastically, before Sarah jumped up and ran out of the room. 

Steve gave his friend a pointy look.

“What?” Bucky asked while he sat up, holding the paper closer to Steve who massaged his temples. “It looks like a cat.”

“She’s four,” Steve said, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. “What the hell happened last night?”

As the question left his lips, Bucky’s face changed immediately. He grinned, leaning back against the wall. “You don’t remember anything, do you? God, I haven’t seen you like this since forever.” 

Steve looked at him, scared to ask him what he exactly meant by that. “Have I done anything stupid?”

“No, I guess,” Bucky shrugged. “You just had fun. Let your hair down a little.”

“Look at you two.” They both turned towards Sam who stood at the door, lazily leaning against the frame. As Steve’s eyes fell on him, memories quickly returned to him about how they arrived at his house so late at night, with Sam being the only sober person of the group. He sent the babysitter home and checked on Sarah before he ushering Steve to bed, and that was the last thing he remembered before he fell asleep. “I always knew you’d make a nice couple.”

While Bucky and Sam argued about something Steve felt too tired to pay attention to, he climbed out of the bed and searched for his phone. He looked everywhere; under the bed, his pockets and below his pillow before he finally heard its buzzing from behind the nightstand. He picked it up, ignored the missed calls and groaned when he saw the time. Great—they were going to be late for school again. 

His clothes smelled like a cheap pub and the jacket of his suit he found on the carpet sparkled from glitter, reminding him they visited a strip club at some point of the long, long night. The more Steve remembered, the more devastated he felt. He quickly changed into something more comfortable and washed his face, before went to the kitchen where he found the others. He drank more water he thought it was humanly possible without stopping to catch his breath.

“Still angry at me, princess?” Bucky asked Sarah who sat at the kitchen table, her small feet dangling inches from the floor. She shook her head from side to side, her disheveled locks falling everywhere.

“No. Uncle Sam said it isn’t my fault that you can’t see true talent,” she said before she theatrically bit into her french toast. 

Steve stopped and turned to his friends. “Okay. That’s it. You can’t spend time alone with her anymore.”

“What did I do?!” Bucky asked, offended.

“No, what did I do? I just recognized the young lady’s talent.”

Sarah grinned at Sam, munching on her breakfast while Steve ignored them and hurried to his daughter. 

“C’mon, we have to go.”

“But I haven’t finished yet!”

“You can eat it in the car, Sarah. We can’t be late again,” Steve said while he took the girl’s hand and walked her to her room. Looking for clothes, he silently prayed that for once, they could get over with the process quickly. 

“I don’t want to wear that!” She said with a peremptory tone, crossing her arms over her chest and raising her chin. The gesture reminded Steve of Peggy so much it made his aching head spin.

“Sarah, we don’t have time for this,” he said, but let the girl choose a pair of pink leggings and a teal sweater with a fluffy alpaca on it. He dressed her up and combed the tangles out of her locks, followed by another argument because she wanted to keep her hair down.

They left the bedroom fifteen minutes later, the little girl still sulking with her long ponytail. 

“Aren’t you late for work, Sam?” Steve asked as he looked for Sarah’s bag while his friends idly sat at the table, talking about last night. 

“Why, are you going to fire me?”

“I could do it,” Steve said, though they both knew he wouldn’t. Sam wasn’t only his best friend but the Head of Finance of Steve’s company, and also his right hand. Sometimes he had no idea what he would do without him. 

He kept lifting up pillows and blankets from the couch, breaking out in a cold sweat while his head still pounded. “Sarah, please put your shoes on.”

“I can give you a ride,” Bucky offered, but instead of Sam, Steve gave him an answer.

“You just want to see my assistant.” 

“What? No. I don’t even know who your assistant is.”

Steve finally found the girl’s backpack under the dinner table, but Sarah still stood with her arms crossed.

“I told you to put your shoes on,” Steve let out a breath, before he swung the small bag over his shoulder and picked the girl and the pair of shoes up. 

“You know, you were more fun last night,” Bucky grinned as Steve grabbed his keys and glared at his friend.

“I’ll be back soon.”

***

The building was quiet as always when you arrived. Instead of turning up late or just in time, you preferred to come to the office half an hour earlier than the others. Had a small talk with the receptionist, put fresh flowers in the vase that always stood at your desk, made coffee or had a quiet breakfast while you checked your emails. You had learned that it was worth waking up a little earlier; you could be more productive if you had some time to get ready for the day. 

In the past six months, you had spent at the publishing house, you fell in love with your job. While you had worked in the marketing field before, the other companies quickly made you hate what you used to like. Red Wing Publishing House had everything you could have ever hoped for. Not only you could do something you knew and loved, but it paid well, had great benefits, and your colleagues were all amazing. Everything and everyone was perfect.

Everyone except your boss.

Working with Steve Rogers was clearly the biggest disadvantage of this job, to the point that sometimes you considered if it was really worth staying here. It was rare when he said “thank you” and paid you a compliment, but didn’t hesitate to call you out when you made one insignificant typo. He double-checked all of your work and almost always changed something, making you feel like you were completely incompetent in the profession you had years of experience in. He repeatedly made you work overtime because he looked through your work late and sometimes made you restart everything from the beginning. He expected you to talk with him before you made any decision, yet it was nearly impossible to reach him. And on top of everything, he had the nerve to ask if it was easy to work with the others.

He might be a good person - his assistant, Natasha said he was - but he was definitely not a good leader. Sometimes you wondered if he liked to do what he did at all and if he didn’t, why the hell did he keep leading this company. 

Of course, after years in the field, you had learned that there is no such thing as the “perfect job”. No matter how much you love what you do, there’s always something that makes it a little harder to leave your bed in the morning, whether it’s your payment, your colleagues, the clients, or the boss. You just had to know when to quit and when to stay and focus on the good parts.

It was a quiet day, but most of the morning went by quickly. It was almost lunchtime when you took a deep breath and left the room to speak with your boss. One of the biggest benefits was that you had your own office: it was small, but at least you didn’t have to share it with anyone. While you had no problem with the others, for you it was easier to do most of your work alone and in silence. 

You walked down the corridor and through the open office, before you knocked on Nat’s door. She gave you a welcoming smile, finishing a phone call when you stepped in.

“Can I talk to him?” You asked, nodding at the door that opened from Natasha’s office. 

She smiled at your pained expression. “He isn’t here yet.”

With a frown, you checked the clock on the wall. “He won’t be coming in today?”

“We’re not that lucky,” Nat said jokingly. “He called in earlier that he’ll be late.”

You sighed, sensing an overtime again. “Great. Would you tell him I want to talk to him? It’s important,” you added, knowing he’d easily ignore you otherwise.

“Sure.”

***

“This can’t happen again, Sam,” Steve said with a sigh as he leaned against the wall of the elevator, a coffee cup in his hand. “I have a daughter. What would she have said if she had seen me like that last night?”

“You mean with boob glitter on your face while you stumbled over your own legs? I’m pretty sure she’d have laughed.”

Steve felt his cheeks heating up and he was glad he was wearing sunglasses, the accessory shielding him from his friend’s grinning glance. “This isn’t funny.” 

“Man, calm down. It happened once. You can’t think it makes you a bad father.”

Steve clenched his jaw and sipped his coffee. From the day Sarah was born, he had promised he would always be there for her; something his father could never say about himself. As much as he tried to keep his word, he wasn’t always good at it. He had a company to run and he couldn’t spend nearly as much time with her as she deserved. And even though Steve was still around more than Peggy ever was, he knew blaming others wouldn’t make his situation better. 

Steve just wanted to be good for Sarah, even willing to give up on everything if it would make her life brighter.

“Morning,” Nat said as Steve stepped in, her eyes widening when he took his sunglasses off, revealing the dark circles. “You look miserable.” 

“Thanks,” Steve said as he walked into his office, Nat following him. “Cancel everything that isn’t a life or death.”

“So I assume James’ birthday was good.” 

“Yeah—James? Wait, are you two seriously dating?”

She raised a hand in defense. “Dating? No. We matched on Tinder. He’s trying quite hard, though. I mean, he’s cute, but he’s a huge nerd.”

Steve plopped down in his chair, running his palm down his face. His head still felt like it wanted to break in half, but at least his stomach had settled down. “Natasha, I’m really not in the mood for this.”

She put some papers to sign down on his desk and quickly told Steve the most important things he had missed, though she had a feeling he couldn’t really process anything. 

“Do you need an aspirin?”

“Yeah. Make it two.”

Nat turned to leave, but halted at the door. “Oh, I almost forgot. Y/N Y/L/N wants to talk to you.”

“About?”

“I don’t know, but she said it’s important.”

“Fine,” Steve muttered under his breath. “I’ll let you know when she can come in.”

***

Only one hour was left of your shift when your phone rang when Nat told you that Steve was waiting for you. It was hard to hold back a groan. Spending a short time in his office was never an option, even when you only had to talk about something small; he usually talked too much, losing himself in the details. It wasn’t rare when you sat two hours with him. 

You picked up a notebook and a pen. The very first time he had called you into his office, he let you know you should always bring something to take notes, and soon you learned why. He gave you tasks, detailed ones, quickly filling the pages of your notebooks. 

You heaved a sigh when you passed Nat, and she gave you a sympathetic smile. “He isn’t in a good mood.”

“Is he ever…?

You knocked on the door, walking in after you heard a quiet “Come in.”

“Hello, Mr Rogers.” You gave him a kind smile he didn’t return. 

“Sit down, please,” he said, not looking up from his laptop. 

He had a big office with a nice view. His desk stood in front of the window, neat and organized with only his laptop, his phone, a few papers and a framed picture you only saw from behind. A circular table with eight chairs on the right, couches and bookshelves on the left. It wasn’t exactly modern and simple as most offices nowadays, but more homelike, dominated by warm colours. It could have made you feel comfortable and welcomed if he didn’t give you those cold looks all the time. 

You sat down behind the circular table, but he stayed at his desk. It was rare when he joined you, maybe only on his better days and those were quite rare for him. You often joked with the others that he was unable to laugh; even when he smiled, it looked awfully forced. He seemed very uptight, like he was always on edge. 

He looked terrible today. His face was paler than usual, dark circles under his tired eyes. His brows were knitted together and you wondered if his face hurt from all the tension he held. 

When he finally looked up at you, he pinched the bridge of his nose and you could barely make a coherent sentence. It was going to be a long afternoon, indeed. 

It wasn’t your worst meeting, though. He didn’t say anything that hurt your self-esteem, but he was painfully cold, keeping you anxious the whole time he gave you that half-angry look. You checked the time in the middle of his speech; fifteen minutes left of your shift.

Steve checked his phone, too. It seemed he couldn’t wait to finally finish this conversation. “Okay, I think we’ve talked about everything. Do you have any other questions?”

“No,” you said. “But we still need to talk about the team-building event we scheduled for next month.”

“Oh, right.” His face softened a little. “Thank you. Any progress?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but the words stuck in your throat when he stood up from his desk. He pushed the sleeves of his black wool sweater up to his elbows and walked closer, pulling a chair out and sitting down, casually leaning back and resting a hand on the top of his thigh.

Asshole or not, Steve Rogers was breathtakingly hot.

You quickly closed your lips and cleared your throat. “Yes, I asked around and everyone voted for something we could do outdoors. I thought about an adventure park. There’s a great one nearby, we could get there with a bus in an hour.”

Steve nodded. “Sound good. If our budget allows it, you can start organising it.”

“I have to run this by Sam first, but I think it shouldn’t be a problem,” you said, scratching on your notebook. 

He nodded again. “I’m giving you a free hand with this, but if you aren’t sure about something, check with me first. Nat and Sam will help you.” Steve stood up, giving you a small but genuine smile that made you freeze. “It sounds good though. I think all of us will have fun.”

Once again, your mouth fell open. Not only had he smiled but he also implied he will join you. Just a few weeks ago Nat, who worked at the company longer than any of you, had revealed that Steve had never taken a part in any of the team-building events before. What made him change his mind, you had no idea, but it made you reconsider your attendance. 

“Oh… Okay…”

The corner of his lips twitched into a smile. “What’s wrong? You didn’t expect me to go?”

“No! I just… well, no, I didn’t,” you said, huffing out an awkward laugh.

“Well, we hired a lot of new employees this year,” Steve said. “I thought it would be the best occasion to get to know each other, including me.”

“Yes. Of course.” 

“Okay,” Steve said with a nod. “If we don’t have to talk about anything else…”

You shook your head and stood up, checking your watch one last time. “Mr Rogers? Is it okay if I leave these for tomorrow?” You asked, raising your still open notebook.

Steve pursed his lips. “Actually, can you please stay and finish that advertisement we’ve talked about? The graphics are already done, you just have to write the advertisement itself. We’re already late with this promotion.” 

And whose fault is that? You bit back the urge to ask the question out loud, gritting your teeth together before giving him a forced smile.

“Sure. I’ll do it.”

“Thank you. I’ll be here if you need anything.”


	2. Chapter 2

“He’s unbelievable,” you said, arms and legs crossed while you sat in the kitchen of the publishing house. The company didn’t have its own cafeteria, but it had a nice, large kitchen with many tables and colorful chairs. Since you had been busy all morning and spent your usual lunch time in Steve’s office, the area was quiet and empty by the time you finally got there. “I know he’s the boss, but does he have to be so damn insufferable too? Is it in the CEO’s job description?” 

Scott smiled at you and shook his head, stirring his coffee. “He is not that bad.”

Your mouth fell open, eyes widening as if he just slapped you. “Not that bad? Not that bad?!” Scott swallowed as you leaned slightly closer above your untouched lunch. “Sure you say that, because you don’t have to talk to him that much. Me? I have to talk to him daily. You know why? Because I have to ask his permission for everything! I know what I do, but apparently, he thinks I’m an incompetent, inexperienced little girl. But he’s the expert, isn’t he?” You asked with cynicism. “I mean, who the hell is he? He knows nothing about advertising and marketing and yet he keeps lecturing me. Did he even have any relevant studies or he just inherited the company from his daddy and now he’s happy to annoy all of us?”

People always described you as calm, kind and compassionate, and as you realized how spiteful you must have sounded, you felt a sting of guilt. It was unlike you to judge anyone, but Steve Rogers could easily bring out the worst in you. You couldn’t understand him. Sometimes he put his heart and soul into his work, especially when it came to helping young, talented writers with no resources, and it was clear he never did it for the money or the fame. Quite often it was Sam who needed to remind him when he repeatedly did something the Red Wing had absolutely no profit in. Other days he let you leave early when all was finished, thanked you for everything and appreciated if you stayed in longer. On these days, you almost, _ almost _liked him.

Most times, however, he acted the complete opposite. Maybe his intentions were good, but it seemed like he wanted to control everything, even those aspects of the job he knew absolutely nothing about. That was the only thing that truly annoyed you: he never acknowledged when he made a mistake. 

“I don’t want to sound like a jerk, but…” Scott started after a little pause, stopping again when Natasha walked in. Her heels knocked loudly on the floor as she approached the coffee machine, giving you a small smile. Red Wing didn’t have a dress code, but she was always very elegant. 

“If you're about to ask if that I have my period, I’m gonna punch you.”

“I was… actually wanted to say that maybe… you need to get laid.”

“Scott!”

Scott and you had been great friends for a while now - in fact, he was the one who recommended you this job - and he never hesitated to tell you his honest opinion. He was the IT guy of the publishing house, and also one of the few people who didn’t have a problem with his boss.

“He’s right,” Natasha turned around, leaning her hips against the counter while she waited for her coffee.

You let out an annoyed sigh. “And how is getting laid exactly gonna help me with my little problem with Rogers?”

“Well, it won’t, but I can guarantee it’ll make it easier for you to tolerate him,” she said. “One good night and his passive aggressive comments will roll off of you.”

Scott nodded approvingly. “Seriously, Y/N, how long has it been?”

You arched an eyebrow at him. “I’m not going to discuss that with you.”

“You didn’t say that a week ago when we went out.”

A sudden wave of embarrassment washed over you and you shifted in your seat, digging into your lunch to keep your hand occupied. There was a reason why you usually avoided getting drunk or even tipsy, and it was because alcohol destroyed your filters.

“Okay, you know what?” You spoke up while Nat and Scott exchanged a small, smirking glance. “I think he’s the one who needs to get laid.”

“No one doubts that,” Nat said.

“What are you talking about?” Scott asked with a confused frown. “I’m sure he doesn’t have a problem with that.”

“Oh, I almost forgot you have a crush on him.”

“I don’t have a crush on him,” Scott scoffed. “He’s my boss. It would be weird.” 

Nat giggled with you, before you caught her eyes. “And what about your Tinder date?”

Taking the warm coffee cup between her hands, she rolled her eyes. “We haven’t even met yet and I doubt we will. Oh, and as it turned out, he’s Steve’s best friend.”

“Oh, jesus,” you groaned, swallowing your food. “Yeah, better dump him.”

Unlocking her phone with her free hand, Nat sighed dreamily. “He’s really cute though.”

“But he’s Steve Rogers’ _ best friend _! I mean, no offense, but what kind of a person he is if—” you stopped, nearly dropping your fork when Natasha showed the profile of the man you immediately recognized. “Is that James Barnes? The writer?”

While Scott leaned closer to get a better look, Nat’s features turned to more serious at your words. “Wait, is he really a serious writer? He told me he is a sci-fi author but I thought he’s just posting Star Trek fanfictions on the internet.”

“No,” you said, looking up from the screen. “I love his books. I went to his book reading event last year.”

“But if he’s the boss’ best friend,” Scott said, sitting back in his chair. “Why aren’t we publishing his books?”

Nat and you looked at each other, shrugging, before you returned to your lunch. A couple of moments passed silently while Scott watched you, glad to see that you had finally calmed down. Before he left the kitchen, he turned to you.

“Just don’t shout at me again because of him.”

“I have to. Otherwise I’ll shout at him,” you said, only half-jokingly.

***

And you tried; you really did. Growing up in a family like yours taught you that you should always value what little you had. You weren’t poor, not exactly—you had just enough to get by. There were tougher months too, even though both of your parents worked hard. They always told you to appreciate what life gave you, even if it was a job you didn’t like. If it paid the bills, it should be good enough.

By now, after getting a degree and having a few years of experience, you learned it wasn’t the best advice. You understood their mentality: unlike you, they never had much of a choice, and while they were loving and caring, sometimes the lack of money could make their days miserable. They had to endure a lot, so much more than you ever had, only to keep a job they hated. The fear of getting fired, unable to find something else that paid enough to keep a roof over their and your heads was overwhelming, something you couldn’t understand as a child. Your parents worked hard to make sure you would never have to experience the same. 

They just wanted the best for you, and since for them poverty was the worst thing they had to go through, they still firmly believed you should keep your job at all costs. No talking back to the boss; just stand back and tolerate them no matter how badly they treat you. It was hard to shake this mind set off.

But then again, Steve Rogers could easily bring out the worst in you.

You weren’t entirely sure how it started. Once second you were listening to Steve’s long speech about something he clearly couldn’t quite understand, chewing your bottom lip and forcing yourself to stay silent. The next second you heard yourself lashing out at him, voice raising with each sentence. It was the release of all the stress you had been under in the past couple weeks. 

Somewhere, deep down you knew it was not okay and that you should quickly stop until it was too late, but those quiet voices of reason were all shut down by the stress he had put you under lately. While you weren’t shouting at him from the top of your lungs, you were loud enough so anyone who walked past his door could hear you. 

Steve didn’t stop you. He just sat behind his desk, face almost completely neutral except for the light frown that creased his forehead. In your angry haze, you called him all sorts of names; names he probably didn’t even deserve, things you should’ve known you’d regret about later. Cruel, arrogant, ungrateful and control freak were all amongst the many harsh words you threw at him. 

It was impossible to stop yourself; not when he repeatedly made you feel worthless and disposable, only taking advantage of you knowing you wouldn’t say no. 

When you had gotten everything off your chest, you fell silent and took a deep breath. As you released it, you felt as if all the rage suddenly left your body, only leaving guilt and regret in its place. 

Steve stood your gaze all the way while you talked to him, but he no longer looked into your eyes. He glanced down, his eyes were still hard to read. A painful expression ran across his face, before his features hardened again. It felt like time stopped.

You opened your mouth, even though you had no idea what exactly you could say, but Steve cut you off before you had a chance to utter a word. 

“I have a meeting in five, so if we don’t have anything else to talk about…”

Blinking, you shook your head, before standing up and leaving his office with quick steps. His reaction, or more like the lack of it left you speechless. After you shut the door, you lifted your gaze at Natasha, who watched you with raised eyebrows.

“Did you hear that?” You asked quietly, as if you could erase how loud you were a minute ago.

“It was hard not to,” she replied, not judgingly, with a tiny smirk playing at the corner of her lips. 

With a groan, you walked back to your office, convinced it was your last day at the Red Wing. 

***

But it wasn’t. Three days passed since your not-so-little outburst, but Steve hadn’t called you into his office. In fact, you hadn’t even seen him since then. It was nerve-wracking. You tried to keep doing your job like nothing had happened, but all you could think of how he could fire you any minute. It made your sleep restless, your days stressful and exhausting. Sometimes you’d be rehearsing an apology you wanted to offer, other times you’d give up on it and start looking for new jobs. 

Scott had even caught you once in the kitchen while you were browsing a site.

“What are you doing?” He asked, his frown disappearing as his mouth fell open. “No! Did you just quit?!”

“I didn’t,” you said with a tired sigh. “I’m pretty sure I’m going to be fired though.”

You then told Scott everything, making him promise he wouldn’t tell anyone. Rumours spread like wildfire at the company, but for some reason, no one seemed to know what you had done. You preferred to keep it that way—at least until you were still here.

The lunch break of a very long Friday morning passed with you trying to talk yourself into going and seeing Steve. After three days of overstressing every single minute, having a small panic attack every time your phone rang, you knew you couldn’t go through the weekend without knowing if you still had a job or not. 

You chose to eat in the little diner near the publishing house; you definitely needed a walk and some alone time to clear your head. Walking back, you broke out into a cold sweat, nervous to even think of the conversation that awaited you.

The small, nice waiting room was as silent as it almost always was. So caught up were you in your own thoughts, you nearly failed to notice someone was sitting on the couch. 

A little girl, about three or four years old was sitting there wearing a cardboard cut-out magenta crown with stickers and glitter on her head, gripping a stack of papers in her little hands. She didn’t move, but looked around the place, seemingly lost and a little scared. A sad pout sat on her lips, her eyes shining like she was almost on the verge of crying.

Glancing around the empty room but finding no one, you slowly approached her and leaned down. 

“Hey,” you smiled at her, but she only looked at you in silence. “Are you here all alone? Where are your parents?”

Her pout grew and she shrugged, staring at the floor. Once again, you looked around, but there was no one nearby. 

“What’s your name?”

“Sarah,” she said silently after a short pause. 

You sighed a little, hoping for a last name, before you sat down on the couch. “That’s a really nice crown, Sarah. Did you make it?”

The girl nodded. “Mrs Cooper cut it out but I decorated it!”

“You did?” You asked with a shocked voice. “It’s so pretty. You worked really hard on that didn’t you?”

She scrunched her nose up when she giggled, hiding behind her long hair.

“What else did you draw?” You nodded at the stack of papers on her lap. “Can I see them?”

Sarah held her drawings closer, suddenly very eager to talk to you. No hint left of her sad pout. 

“Oh, look at that! Are they your pets?”

She shook her head. “That’s uncle Bucky’s cat but I named her Sugar. Sometimes she escapes though to see her lover.”

“Her lover, huh?”

“Uncle Bucky said that.”

“Would you like a cat too?”

Sarah shifted, pulling her legs up under her so she sat on her knees. “We can’t because my dad always cries when he sees Sugar.”

You raised your eyebrows, not entirely sure what she was telling you. “He cries? Because of a cat?”

“Yes!” She said loudly, letting you know she was completely sure was she was saying. “We can’t have an alpaca either because we don’t have a garden and my dad said I can’t keep an alpaca in my room,” she said, barely taking a breath, and you almost couldn’t stifle a laugh at her enthusiasm. She pointed at the other animal on the paper that you knew to be an alpaca. “But Morgan said I can play with Gerald and then her dad said he would get me one too if my dad wasn’t so…” she stopped then, pursing her lips and looking away.

You narrowed your eyes. “Is it a bad language word?”

She nodded again. “Mrs Cooper said I can’t use that word again.”

Your laugh was cut off by a loud voice behind you. “There’s my Captain!”

Looking back over your shoulder, you saw Sam walking closer with open arms, grinning while Sarah ran up to him, yelling his name. He picked her up, holding her to his side. The crown had fallen off of her head and you stood to pick it up.

“What are you doing here? Up to something bad?”

“No!” She said loudly, as if even the mere thought was offensive. “Mom said she wanted to talk to daddy.” 

“She was sitting alone when I found her,” you said, adjusting the paper crown in her head. 

“Did she just leave you here alone?” Sam asked skeptically, but Sarah shook her head.

“She told the lady who was here to look after me until she came back but she left.” 

Maybe it was the shade of Sarah’s eyes, or the way she furrowed her brows when she was thinking hard, or perhaps just the fact that she was so close to Sam that made you realise whose daughter she was. 

“Is she Steve’s daughter?” You whisper-screamed at Sam, who gave you a slow nod. 

“I drew Sugar! Let me show you!”

Sam put the girl down, who quickly ran away to collect the papers she had scattered around the couch. He looked quite elegant today in his light grey suit. 

“I can’t believe this,” you said quietly. “She’s so sweet. How does he have a sweet girl like her?”

Sam gave a small chuckle. “Listen, I have a lunch date. Could you look after her until her parents pick her up?” He asked, but seeing your painful features, he went on. “He’s with his ex, so it shouldn’t take long.”

You sighed. “I don’t know… I mean… after… nevermind.” 

“You mean after you nearly bit his head off?”

“You know about that?” You asked, your eyes widening. 

Knowing that it was probably Steve who told him since Natasha was not a gossip, you itched to know what exactly he had told him. You didn’t have too much time to be embarrassed about it as Sarah was at his feet again, showing him all the drawings. Sam took a minute to praise her before he leaned closer to you again. 

“So?”

You rolled your eyes with a small smile. “The things I do for love.”

Sam grinned and thanked you, before he made Sarah promise she’d be a good girl and stay with you for a while. She hugged Sam before he left, giving him one of her drawings. 

“Would you like to see my office?” You asked, taking her small hand as you walked into the open office. 

Sarah jumped a little. “Yes! Do you have a spinning chair too?”

You led her through the room, earning a few curious glances before you reached your office. Sarah seemed like a great kid, although she was definitely a little hyperactive, she didn’t do anything she shouldn’t. During the past months you had been working here you had tried to make your little space more like _ you _ with framed pictures, plants and cut flowers, or stationery that somehow mirrored your personality very well. The “spinning chair” was long forgotten when Sarah found the Belle funko on your shelf and asked if she could see it before she took it off, talking about her favourite Disney princesses. She was definitely one of the most talkative four year olds you had met. 

It was a mystery how Steve Rogers, the man who was always so grumpy and cold raised a child so full of positive energy like Sarah. You knew she lived with him, though the circumstances of that weren’t entirely clear. There were so many different rumours that you didn’t know what to think anymore and so you decided to ignore all of them; it wasn’t your business anyway.

After ten minutes or so, you decided to go back to the waiting room in case her parents were there already looking for Sarah. She chose a flower from your vase, holding the blush pink tulip with both hands while you left the office. It was a quiet Friday afternoon and you could clearly hear quick footsteps on the floor, followed by a woman’s loud voice who called out for Sarah. 

She ran up to the woman who was undoubtedly her mother, reaching her arms out as she picked her up. Steve was close behind her, rubbing his forehead and looking exhausted. 

“Where the hell have you been?!”

“I’m sorry, she was with me,” you said, stepping closer. “She was alone in the hall and—”

“And you couldn’t at least let us know about it?” The woman snapped, making you raise your eyebrows at her.

“Peggy…” Steve breathed out, hands on his hips. 

“I got a flower,” Sarah said like nothing happened, waving her tulip. 

Peggy sighed and put Sarah down, before she looked at you. “I’m sorry. We just got a little scared here. I told Dorothy to keep an eye on her, but apparently, she didn’t.” 

That didn’t surprise you. Dottie worked in HR at the Red Wing and you had always seen her as a snake.

“Thank you for looking after her,” Peggy said, her British accent slipping out here and there. “Sarah, did you say thank you to Miss…?”

“Just Y/N,” you said. “And yes, she did.”

Sarah ran to you one last time to give you a hug, before you left them alone and went back to your office, carefully avoiding your boss’ eyes. 

***

Later, when you were alone in the kitchen, Steve walked in. He looked sharp as always with his white shirt tucked into his tight dress pants, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. It was rare to seem him there and he halted for a moment when he saw you, before continued his way and gave you the smallest smile. The silence was heavy and nearly unbearable while you washed your mug and he searched through the coffee pods, examining them one by one. 

“The one with the pistachios is really good.”

He lifted his gaze. “I don’t like flavoured coffee that much and I’m sure it’s too sweet for me.”

You hummed, turning the tap off. “It isn’t that sweet and it’s strong so if you don’t put sugar in it—_ ARE YOU GOING TO FIRE ME?! _”

Steve flinched with surprise at you suddenly raising your voice at him. He let out a long breath, watching as you squeezed your eyes shut, clearly embarrassed while you wiped your hands dry. He was amazed at how each emotion was so clearly etched on your face. 

“I’m not going to fire you.”

You looked at him, dumbfounded. “Seriously? But… why?”

“Do you want me to fire you?”

“NO! No, I just… I said things that…”

“Things that are probably true,” he said firmly. Steve had always struggled with leading the company; it was something he never really wanted but once it fell in his lap, he didn’t feel like he had a choice. He had, of course, as Bucky never failed to tell him when Steve looked miserable, but he believed it was his duty. It was a war he had been fighting for years. 

He thought he had already gotten over his doubts, but your words reminded him that being a CEO perhaps still wasn’t meant for him. He knew he wasn’t the best leader, but he genuinely didn’t realize he was that bad. After all, it was rare when someone called him out like you did.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make you feel like your work isn’t appreciated here. It is. You’ve already done great things for this company.”

“Oh…” His apology shocked you, to say at least. It was the last thing you had expected to hear. “Thank you. But… I’m sorry too. It wasn’t fair at all to talk to you like that.”

“It’s okay.”

“Is it? I basically threw a tantrum.”

Steve sighed with a smile playing on his lips. “I have a daughter. I am used to it.”

The laugh that left your lips made you notice that the huge weight you had been carrying for days had been finally lifted off yours shoulders. 

“She’s amazing, by the way.”

Steve smiled fondly, moving closer to the coffee machine with the pistachio flavoured pod. “Thanks. She really is.”

Comfortable silence sat between you while you put away the kitchen towel and Steve turned the machine on. When your eyes met again, you stepped closer and held your arm out.

“Are we okay then?”

He didn’t hesitate to take your hand with a firm, but gentle grip. “We are.”

Before you turned to drink a glass of water, you smiled at him thankfully. He definitely wasn’t the best leader, but he had his moments that made you think he was actually a great person. At any other company, your boss would have fired you immediately for talking to them like that.

“Well, I should go back to work. Still have some things to finish before the weekend.” 

Steve nodded. “Yeah. Better hurry up if you don’t want to work overtime again.”

You looked back from the door, freezing at his words as you saw him smiling into his cup. _ Did he just make a joke? _


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I’m back! Sorry for the long wait, I promise I’m not abandoning this story. I received so many amazing comments after the first two chapters and my heart is still melting thinking of them! :’)

The morning of the team building event passed quickly, but uneventfully at the office. Fridays were usually quiet and now everyone was on the edge of their seats, even though Steve had warned his employees that they should focus on their work like it was any other day. It was the end of the week and you all had other things in mind; of course no one took him seriously. 

A day before, you sent an email, reminding your colleagues that they should either come in wearing something comfortable, or bring their outfits the office so they could change before you left. Since you had to meet the head of a translation agency, you chose the second option. It was strange to see Nat in running shoes and yoga pants, but she blended in perfectly with the little crowd that was waiting in the parking lot. Adjusting your small backpack, you made one last phone call to the owner of the adventure park, before approaching the others. 

“Y/N, I have to tell you something,” Angie’s sudden voice made you stop in your tracks as she appeared at your side, seemingly out of nowhere. She had changed into comfy clothes too, her always perfectly curled honey blonde locks gently falling on her shoulders. Angie was one of the most talented graphic designers you had ever met. She had the kind of personality that made everyone want to be friends with her. It was refreshing to spend some time with her: she was very talkative, but also a dreamer, and often quite dramatic. “I have to admit, when I heard that you want to take us to an adventure park where I have to climb and run and sweat, I hated you. But you know what? All is forgiven.”

She put her hands on both of your shoulders, pushing a little with a bright smile on her face. With a frown, you let her turn you around. 

“What am I looking at?” You asked, confused, eyes darting around the parking lot. Angie didn’t speak; all she did was let out a short, quiet laugh while your gaze searched through the small sea of people, trying to find what she wanted to see. You squinted from the bright sunlight, but when your eyes fell on your boss, your jaw nearly dropped. “Oh.” 

Steve Rogers always wore nice clothes. Every so often you caught him in a sweater, but usually he had on something exceptionally elegant. Sometimes you had noticed how uncomfortable he must feel in them, loosening his tie and pulling on his collar when he thought no one was looking. 

He seemed rather relaxed now with his hands hidden in the pockets of his grey sweatpants, a light smile on his lips as he talked with Sam. His white t-shirt melted all over his torso, leaving very little to the imagination. The sleeves gently cut into his biceps, making it even harder to take your eyes off his perfectly sculpted arms. 

Angie’s giggle shook you out of your reverie after your mind wandered to places it shouldn’t, losing yourself in it. Hoping you said none of your filthy thoughts out loud, you cleared your throat. “I didn’t know he’d play with us.” 

She snorted at your choice of words, her hands falling off your shoulders. “I wish he would.” 

“Angie…” You stifled a smile, forcing yourself to turn away from Steve. While she still had a dreamy look in her bright blue eyes, Jen and Dottie walked up behind her, whispering and giggling between themselves. It didn’t surprise you: Steve brought the inner teenage girl out of many of your colleagues quite often. “I just thought he’d sit down, sip his strong black and watch us from afar.”

“Seems like he won’t,” Angie sighed. “Who would’ve thought what he’s been hiding under those suits. Has anyone told him that t-shirt is too small for him though?” She asked, then shot a scared glance at you and the others. “Please no one tell him.”

Dottie and Jen laughed and you couldn’t hold back a smile either, rolling your eyes before you glanced at your watch and decided it was time to leave. While everyone slowly got on the bus, you checked a couple things with Sam and talked to the driver. By the time you finished, the only seat available was next to Steve. 

_ Figures _, you thought, before taking a deep breath and walking to him. His presence still stressed you out; he was always so uptight and you had never had a friendly conversation before. Since your little outburst, nothing had really changed, but at least he was true to his word and he didn’t swamp you with work that wasn’t even your job all the time. 

“Do you mind?”

He looked up from the screen, pocketing his phone. “No, of course, come on.”

Giving him a thankful smile, you plopped down, hugging your backpack in your lap. The space was wide enough for two people sitting next to each other comfortably, but Steve broad shoulders still pressed against yours. He either felt as awkward as you did or just didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable, because he made some more room by leaning against the window. 

“Thank you for doing this,” Steve said after only a few seconds of silence. The bus was loud from the cheerful chatter, but he was close enough for you to hear his quiet but confident voice. “I know organizing events isn’t your job.”

The event manager of the Red Wing had left just a few weeks after you started working there, and since you had already had experience in that field, you happily volunteered to help until they found someone else. It had been more than six months now, but Steve was pleased with your work, because he wasn’t really keen to hire a new person for the position. 

You waved, smiling. “It’s okay. I love doing this. And don’t thank me yet, I can’t guarantee it’ll be successful.”

“Are you joking?” He asked, looking around himself. “Everyone looks so excited. When I organized it two years ago, It felt like they would have rather stayed at the office.” 

“Where did you go?”

Steve closed his eyes, an embarrassed smile on his lips. “An architecture tour. And an exhibition.” 

At first, you weren’t sure whether he was serious or joking. “Oh. That’s…”

“Lame. I know. No wonder why everyone ended up in a pub.” He let out a short laugh, one of the first you had heard from him. “I don’t know. There are a lot of artists here. I thought they would appreciate it.”

“I mean, it could be great, for a date or something. But taking a group of people there… it’s like a really bad high school field trip.”

“Yeah. Trust me, it isn’t a good idea for a date either,” he said bitterly, sounding like he already had a bad experience. You decided not to ask more about it; he seemed like a very private person who wouldn’t talk about his personal life just to anyone. 

The rest of the ride passed mostly in silence. You had talked a little about work, before Steve got a phone call and you decided to read a book you had thankfully decided to pack. 

The sight that greeted you after you left the bus was well worth the trip. The adventure park was located inside the forest, where the sun shone through the rich canopy. Pine needles and dried leaves crunched under your feet while you walked down the path that led through the park. Rope loops and different kinds of hanging bridges, balance beams and zip lines towered over you so high they made your head spin only looking up at them. 

“You okay?” Sam put his hand between your shoulder blades, helping you to regain your balance after you swayed on your feet a little. 

“Yeah, sure,” you said, releasing a slow breath. “I just have this little thing.”

“What little thing?”

“I’m deadly scared of heights.” 

“What?” Sam laughed. “You have acrophobia and you decided to take us to an adventure park?”

“Well, everyone liked this idea the most,” you shrugged. “It’s okay though. I’m gonna play paintball and kick everyone’s ass.” 

“Be in Steve’s team and then you’ll surely win.” 

You arched an eyebrow. “Is he that good at paintball?”

“I don’t know about that, but the guy can’t lose. He’s very competitive.” 

“Who would’ve thought,” you muttered under your breath, making Sam chuckle as you reached the paintball field. 

The group stopped in a half-circle, facing the gates while they continued their conversation. A young man approached you in camouflage uniform, his muscular form seeming a lot smaller as he stood next to Steve. They spoke a few words before you stepped forward too, shaking hands and quickly going through a couple of things. The guy patiently answered everyone’s questions and showed everyone how to put on the suit and the protective gear. You were still fiddling with the kneepads as Angie stepped close to you.

“This is just getting better and better.” 

This time she didn’t need to guide you; your eyes quickly found Steve who looked like he was born to wear the uniform. 

“He looks like one of those Hot Toys,” she giggled. “Just a suggestion though,” Angie went on and you straightened. “Next year we should go to a water park.” 

You snorted with laughter and swatted her shoulder playfully, before leaving her and walking up to Steve. The two of you then explained the rules and how you were going to divide into smaller teams, rotating so that everyone could be on the same team at one point. 

“This is designed to bring us all together,” you said with a smile. “Try not to hurt each other.” 

“And the prize is,” Steve said, drawing everyone’s attention. “A day off for the winning team.”

Loud clapping and cheering followed his words and you turned to him. “Feeling generous?”

“I am,” he pursed his lips, before he smiled. “Are you ready?”

“Definitely not ready playing against you,” you said, just as Sam walked closer to you. “He said you can’t lose.” 

“That’s not true,” Steve said firmly, furrowing his brows.

“Dude,” Sam sighed. “You never let your own daughter to win in anything.” 

“How’s she going to learn anything if I let her win?” Steve asked in an annoyed voice. It was a recurring argument between them. Both Sam and Bucky spent a lot of time at Steve’s place and all three of them had a different kind of parenting style. Steve never let Sarah win without earning it, Bucky let her win all the time, and Sam fell in the middle. 

“Okay,” you laughed, holding up your gun. “Can we start? I have to win that day off.”

Steve divided the group, five people in each team. As soon as you had started playing, you realized what Sam had meant when he said Steve couldn’t lose. It seemed as though he completely forget that it was just a game and took it way too seriously, fighting his way through the field to get the flag like it was a life or death situation. Playing against him was almost scary, but being in the same team was simply exhausting. He kept giving orders and gave you no breaks, suddenly appearing at your side as soon as you stopped to rest a little. You were sweating and panting and aching all over by the time the game was close to an end, so decided to hide behind a tree for some rest.

“What are you doing here?” Steve’s voice came from above you and you sighed, looking up at him.

“Waiting for a merciful death,” you panted with burning lungs. “Could you shoot me?”

“Nope. You’re in my team.” He reached his arm out and you took his hand, eyes widening a little at how easily he pulled you up from the ground. His bulging bicep pressed against you as you stayed at your hiding place. Steve pointed at the fluttering flag about two hundred feet away, spiked on a tree. “You get the flag, I cover you.” 

“Oh, I’m… not sure that’s a good idea…” 

“Only the two of us left,” he pressed. “C’mon, I’ll be right behind you.” 

Before you had time to think, you were already running across the field, hearing Steve’s loud steps in your heels. You heard shouts and disappointed cursing from the other side, and before you knew, you already reached the tree with the flag. You couldn’t quite believe you didn’t get shot and you looked down on yourself, examining the back of your legs for paint stains, but you were clean. 

“Go up,” Steve said, holding his gun like a trained sniper. “We’re almost there.”

Releasing a slow breath, you started to climb up the ladder, muttering to yourself. “Okay. I can do this. I can do this.” 

Admittedly, the flag wasn’t put up too high; probably less than forty feet. Getting it went more smoothly than you thought it would and when you finally wrapped your hand around it, you sighed with relief. From the distance, you heard loud clapping and Steve’s praise, but the moment you looked down, the entire world turned upside down. There was a wooden bench built around the tree and you quickly collapsed on it, pulling your feet up so they didn’t dangle off the edge. 

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” You shouted with trembling voice, eyes squeezed shut.

“Don’t you want to come down?” Steve asked, more concerned this time.

“In a minute.”

There were a few seconds of silence while you could hear nothing but your own, rapid heartbeat, drumming loudly in your ears. Slowly, you opened your eyes, but the sight made your head spin again.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Steve’s voice was closer now as he climbed up, sitting down next to you as he saw that something definitely wasn’t right. For a brief moment you almost laughed, thinking of how amusing you must have looked with your legs pulled up to your chest and your arms wrapped around the tree. 

“I just—I’m—” You stumbled over your own words, taking the kind of short and sharp breaths that scared Steve, hating the all too familiar sound of them. It made his pulse quicken too, but he forced himself to stay relaxed.

“Alright,” he said as calmly as he could, reaching over to unfasten the straps of your helmet. “Let’s get this off.”

The helmet was off, you heard the loud thud of it as Steve placed it down, but it didn’t give you much more space to breathe. You broke out in a cold sweat and his skin felt like fire as he put his hand on your cheek, then to your forehead, moving loose strands of hair out of your face. 

“Y/N.” His voice was demanding as he called your name, but it had a certain lightness to it that effortlessly soothed you. “Open your eyes.”

Steve had to repeat his words one more time before you did as he said. His close presence surprised you, blocking out all the view so that you had no choice but to look directly into his eyes. At some point he had discarded his helmet as well, his hair that was always perfectly in place now stuck up in every direction. The moment you had tried to turn around and look around you, Steve put his hand back on your cheek.

“Breathe with me,” he said quietly, taking slow and deep breaths. You tried to follow him and even though at first it didn’t help, a minute later your breathing started to go back to normal. He was very patient and kept reassuring you in the softest voice.

His irises were the mesmerizing shade of cerulean with tiny hints of green that you could only see like this, while his face was inches from yours. Steve didn’t rush you. Even after you stopped panting, he wanted to make sure you were feeling okay. He started to talk about everyday things with you, almost making you forget that you were still on a tree.

“How do you feel?” He asked when he finally heard your laugh again.

“Better.”

“Ready to climb down?”

You winced. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for that.”

Steve smiled gently at you. “I’ll go first and you will follow me. If you fall, which you won’t, I will catch you.”

Letting out a shaky breath, you gave a nod. Steve started to climb down and you followed him, forcing yourself not to look down.

“I almost forgot to tell, but Sarah loves you.”

“Oh, does she?”

“Yeah,” Steve said while ever so slowly, you continued your way down. “She’s kind of obsessed with the lady who gave her flowers and keeps princesses in her office.”

A laugh escaped your lips and you stopped, holding the edge of the ladder with an iron grip. Instead of asking if you were okay, Steve kept trying to take your mind away from the situation, but you felt a reassuring hand on your calf. 

“I don’t know what that means though.”

“I have a Belle Funko in my office,” you said. “You know, big headed cute dolls—” your voice died away as your weak, quivering legs slipped, losing your balance. Even though Steve knew you wouldn’t have fallen down, he could only imagine how scared you were, so he quickly climbed up a few steps and wrapped an arm around you from behind. The position had to be awfully uncomfortable for him while he only held himself up with one hand.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” he said gently. “Are you okay?”

You let out a long breath. “Yeah. I guess.” 

“Can we keep going or do you need some time?”

“We can go,” you said after you more or less regulated your breathing again, but feeling Steve’s hold starting to loosen around your stomach, you quickly grasped his forearm with a yelp. “Please, don’t let me go.”

Steve sighed. Climbing down like this would actually be more dangerous, but he knew if he told you this, there was no chance he could get you off of this tree. 

“Okay,” he breathed out, tightening his secure grasp around you again. “Ready?”

There wasn’t much left but he had to slow down, the position not allowing a fast pace. You made the last few steps in complete silence, and when your feet finally reached solid ground, you sighed loudly with relief. Steve’s arm left you and you swayed a little, leaning your back against a tree.

“Well, no one can say you didn’t work hard for that day off,” Steve said. “You really want to spend a day away from me that much, huh?”

Laughing, you buried your face into your palms. You felt eternally grateful, and more than a little embarrassed as you looked up at him. “Thank you so much, Mr Rogers. If you weren’t there I would probably stay up there.”

“Just call me Steve, please.” If you weren’t still under the effect of your near-death experience, his words would probably shocked you. “Why did you let me send you up there? If I knew you had this kind of a problem—”

“It’s not your fault,” you said, shaking your head. “I don’t know. I was stupid. I know I have this phobia and I shouldn’t have done this.”

Steve shook his head and sighed, running his fingers through his messy hair, trying to comb back his messy locks. “Are you feeling okay? Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Alright,” Steve nodded. “Let’s go back to the others. You definitely need some rest.”

Pushing yourself away from the tree, you followed Steve back on the thin path through the adventure park, where some of your colleagues who had gotten shot earlier were now up on the hanging bridges. When your eyes met Angie’s who stood near the buffet and sipping a coke, her smug smile told you she wasn’t going to let this die any time soon. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i’m back!! sorry for the long wait - i know many of you were excited about this story (which makes me incredibly happy). thank you for the lovely feedback. ❤️

“My God,” Angie breathed out, stirring her milky tea with a spoon while resting her chin on her free palm. Knowing that dreamy sigh too well by now, you didn’t even look up from your notebook while scratching some notes down, stifling a smile and shaking your head. “How much do you think he works out? No one looks like this. _No one_.”

The way Angie talked about your boss made it harder to concentrate so you gave in, glancing at Steve who stood at the coffee machine and talked with Natasha. A brief look at him explained your friend’s reaction, who still shamelessly stared at him. The way the sleeves of his very tight blue shirt were rolled up to his elbows made you squirm in your chair.

“Don’t you have an extremely jealous girlfriend?” 

“She saw him. She understands,” Angie said, taking a sip from her drink. “I’m kind of jealous. You know how it feels being in those arms,” she went on, making you rolling your eyes. “I should’ve played the damsel in distress too.”

“I have acrophobia,” you stated, slipping the pen between the pages and closing the notebook. “You can’t act out that much fear.”

“Excuse me? I should be on Broadway.”

Things had changed a lot since the team building event. At first, you felt rather ashamed after you embarrassed yourself in front of the entire company, but seeing as no one but Angie made a big deal out of it, you could slowly let go of your insecurities in these past few weeks. Before this, you had never believed such trips could have positive benefits, but the time you had spent in the adventure park really brought your team closer. Since you were always swamped with work, you rarely had a chance to make friends at the company, so it was a great opportunity to get to know each other. 

Somehow it became easier to talk to Steve as well. Seeing that he had a more gentle side, something he never showed at work, helped you to feel less stressed around him. As a result, you could speak to him without constantly fearing his reaction, tell him more about your ideas, or open your mouth when you disagreed with him. It meant more work, but for the first time in a long time, you finally started to feel like your work was truly appreciated. 

Things were changing, you could already see that, but you had no idea how much exactly.

* * *

It was one of those busy Mondays at work when you barely had time to catch your breath. From the moment you started the day, your phone kept ringing and buzzing with texts, new emails constantly popping up before you could answer the last ten. You had to run up and down the building all morning and someone knocked on your door just when you thought you had two minutes to rest. 

Hours flew by so quickly with all the work that by the time you finally sat down for your very late lunch, you only had a couple hours left of your shift. With a growling stomach, you stayed in front of your computer, still answering emails while drinking your soup. 

A knock on your door startled you, making you sigh in disappointment. If there was one thing you hated, it was when someone bothered you during your meal time. Considering it was way past the normal lunch time, you really had no reason to complain, but you silently wished it was Friday afternoon already.

When Steve peeked in, your eyes grew wide. Never once in the past eight months had he set foot in your office—if he wanted to talk, he either sent a message through Nat or directly called you and told you he was waiting for you. This was definitely not how you wanted to greet him: piles of papers all around your desk that you hastily pushed out of the way, some of your personal belongings scattered around, noodles hanging from your mouth while you still typed with one hand.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were having lunch. I’ll come back later.” 

He had already stepped out of the office and almost shut the door when you swallowed your food and called after him. “No, it’s okay! Come in.”

“Thank you,” he said, walking back and plopping down in a chair. He looked exhausted with deep lines over his forehead and dark circles under his eyes, but when his gaze found the Belle Funko on your desk and remembered how excitedly Sarah talked about you, he couldn’t help but smile. “I should get one of these for Sarah.”

You wiped your smiling lips with a napkin and pushed your bowl away. “I’ll send you the link of the store.” 

“Thanks.” Steve leaned back in the chair and heaved a sigh, running his fingers through his hair. “I need your help.”

“I don’t like the sound of this.”

Steve laughed, but it changed nothing in his tired face. “Do you know Darren Cross?”

Taken aback, you arched an eyebrow. Everyone in this business knew who Darren Cross was. He was the CEO of one of the most popular bookstores; they had shops all over the continent. Unfortunately, for some reason unknown to you, they didn’t market any book published by the Red Wing.

“Of course I do.”

“Right,” Steve said, leaning forward. “I’ve been trying to win him over for years, but he never wants to sign the damn contract. To be honest, since he’s been so stubborn, I’d already given up on him. But Sam contacted his assistant last week and she said he’s willing to talk again. “I know, usually I am the one who does this, but… I thought maybe you could give it a try .”

“Me? Why? I mean, have you considered Nat? She’s very good at convincing people.”

“You have a master’s degree in marketing,” Steve said. “You know how to sell things to people.”

“But why doesn’t he want to cooperate with us in the first place? We have a lot of popular writers. It would be a win-win situation.” 

Once again, Steve sighed, and from the tormented look on his face, you could see that he was about to tell you something you wouldn’t be happy to hear. “My father had some disagreements with him when he used to lead the company. He has always made excuses since then.”

You groaned. “I’m not sure I could solve that, then.”

“You could at least try. Please,” Steve said with a hopeful smile. “Just wine and dine with him and see how it goes. I’ve already made a reservation at a great restaurant but if I go, I’m sure he’ll say no again.”

“It isn’t nice to bribe a hungry woman with food.”

“It’s a really good place.”

“Fine. I’ll do it,” you laughed. “For the food.”

* * *

Dinner went exactly the way you had expected. Darren Cross was just as arrogant and overconfident as most of the important men you had met in New York, always having an answer for everything you said and rarely letting you finish even a single sentence. It was hard to talk about business with him while he thought he knew everything better than you. And on top of everything, he thought shamelessly flirting with you was completely fine. Many times during the night you had to remind yourself how important this contract was for the Red Wing, before you would bite his head off and leave him there.

In the end, you had no idea how Cross said yes and agreed to sign the papers, but you had to do your best to hide your surprise. Not because you didn’t trust yourself, but because he seemed to be the kind of person you wouldn’t be able to convince once he made up his mind. 

Steve felt as if he could jump in joy upon hearing the good news. The publishing house seriously needed new distributors and with this, it was as if you had hit the jackpot. Of course, you knew it was nothing to do with luck and you were incredibly proud of yourself for making this possible. It only added to your happiness that Steve showered you with compliments; it was the first time he had done that, and you could tell he was very grateful. 

And that was the last time you saw Steve during the week. He was either incredibly busy or didn’t feel like talking to any of his employees, because even when he was in the building, he never left his office. He didn’t call you or leave any messages, which he usually did a lot, and it was impossible to reach him. Sometimes you had a feeling a whole continent separated the two of you, not just a floor. It made your situation a lot harder as you couldn’t show any ongoing project to him, even though he always wanted to double check everything. 

By Friday afternoon you were so drained that you decided to cancel every plan you had for the weekend. The moment you stepped into the flat, you fell on the couch and dozed off, not even bothering with changing your clothes or moving to the bedroom. This week had been incredibly long and taken a toll on you, but you hadn’t even realized how exhausted you were until you finally had the time to rest. 

It started out as a quick nap, but you woke up hours later, feeling disoriented and even more tired than you were before. The sun was setting, giving the apartment a glowing, golden light. Yawning, you reached for your phone, but it wasn’t on the coffee table where you usually put it. Without thinking about it too much, you checked your bag, but you couldn’t find neither your personal cellphone nor the one you used for work. The little hope that you had you had left them in the car quickly vanished too, and you had no other choice but to drive back to the Red Wing. 

It was almost completely dark by the time you arrived. Even though it was Friday night, the lights were still on in many offices. The receptionist’s nose was buried in a book, immersed in the novel you had recommended to him, so after a quick hello, you hurried to the elevator. To your relief, both of your phones were waiting for you on your desk, lost under the papers you were too weak to organize earlier. While you were there, you decided to tidy up; you hated to leave your little space messy for the weekend.

While leaving, you daydreamed about ordering some food, soaking in a hot bath and binging some tv show until you fell asleep, but something made you halt in the corridor. A loud thud of drawers sliding out, papers scattering around the wooden floor. _That couldn’t be a burglar, right?_ The receptionist wouldn’t allow anyone upstairs and no one could enter without a keycard, but why would anyone be here so late? Feeling your pulse pounding in your throat, you pulled a pepper spray out of your bag, just in case, while approaching the source of the noise that was coming from Natasha’s office.

It was dark; the only source of light was coming from a small lamp by Steve’s office. Eyes fixed on his desk, you were so focused on it that you didn’t notice that Steve was crouching on the floor until he stood up, the papers he collected in his hands, stepping out from behind Nat’s desk. He took a step back, shielding his face with the contracts before you could mace him; your loud yelp echoing across the floor. 

Still clutching the small can, you pressed your free hand against your chest, feeling your thundering heart. “Steve, what the—oh my—”

He laughed, lowering the papers and turning the lights on. “You’re not gonna use that on me, are you?”

Chuckling, feeling more than a little relieved and as if suddenly all of your strength left you, you leaned against the wall. “No. Holy shit.”

“Are you feeling okay?” He asked, sounding genuinely concerned. “What are you doing here so late?”

“I left my phones here,” you said, taking a deep breath and trying to pull yourself together. “What are _you _doing here?”

_That’s a good question,_ Steve thought. _What am I doing here?_ He saw as you peeked over his shoulder, watching the many papers on his desk, his laptop still on. He was sure a million thoughts flashed through your mind about why he had nothing better to do on a Friday night than working.

The truth was, he didn’t want to be at home. Steve always enjoyed spending time alone, but it had changed a lot since Sarah was born. Even after his divorce, it was rare when his house stood empty, as his best friends came and went like it was their own place. It frankly annoyed Steve at the beginning—he didn’t want anyone to worry about him, or think that he was not capable to raise his daughter by himself. Soon, when he recovered after what had happened and started to settle down again, he realized he should be thankful. These people truly loved him and Sarah; they weren’t around them out of pity or whatever other reason his noisy brain told him sometimes. By now, Steve cherished the days he could spend hours with his daughter, surrounded by friends who never failed to make them laugh. On those days, he could call his house, a home. 

Every time Sarah stayed with Peggy, Steve buried himself under work. He hated coming home to a silent, empty house. When he didn’t need to pick the little girl up from school, Steve stayed working overtime at the Red Wing, spent long hours in the gym, or went out for a drink or two with Sam and Bucky. Now both of his best friends were dating someone, hence he didn’t have much of a choice.

“I still had some things to finish.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the exact truth either. As a CEO, Steve always had enough work to do, but since he had been overworking himself all week, he was way ahead with every task.

There was a shift in his voice that you couldn’t ignore. It wasn’t only the exhaustion the affected his tone, he sounded sad and disappointed as well, no matter how much he tried to mask it with a polite smile. He glanced down and away from you, walking back to his office. 

“It’s a good thing you have that,” he said, nodding at the spray that was still in your hand. 

“Oh,” you chuckled and followed him, but stopped at the doorstep. “Yeah. My dad gave it to me when I moved to New York. I know, he’s a little paranoid, but we’re from a small town.” 

Steve smiled but didn’t say anything, knowing well that he would definitely be giving Sarah one too once she was old enough.

“I was just planning to grab some dinner,” you broke the silence while Steve was searching for something in his drawer, making him stop. ”Would you like to join me?”

“I… I still need to finish these,” he said, a little uncertain, glancing at his desk with all the papers.

“Oh, come on. It’s Friday night. You need to relax.”

Steve hesitated. This week had been too long; he felt exhausted and couldn’t focus on anything anymore, but he didn’t want to go back to his deserted flat either. It crossed his mind to say no, but only for a short second, before he accepted the offer. 

The restaurant you chose was close to the Red Wing, so instead of driving, you decided to walk in the pleasantly warm late summer evening. It felt strange for Steve. None of his employees had ever asked him to do anything outside of the publishing house - with the exception of Sam and Nat, but they were friends even before he took over the company. 

Luckily, the restaurant had a few free tables left and as the weather was nice, you decided to sit outside. 

“How about we don’t talk about work tonight?” You asked while taking a seat. Your week had been terribly busy and just as draining and you wanted nothing more than turning your mind off a little.

Steve blinked, before giving an uncertain nod. He looked calm, but his mind was racing. What was he supposed to talk about? He had never talked about anything else with you. His palms started to sweat and he hated himself for it. If it was a business meeting, he could pull that off anytime, but having a normal conversation with a woman he barely knew? But he realized, very quickly, that with you, he didn’t need to worry. 

“It looks really nice,” Steve said as he looked around, only to say something, although he meant it. The ceiling was decorated with millions of tiny bulbs, all shining in different colours. Being the only source of light out there, it gave a unique, almost magical atmosphere to the place. If someone described it to him, he would have thought it looked tacky, but seeing it up close, it mesmerized him.

“It is,” you said, picking up the menu. “My friend owns this place.”

"Really?"

“Yeah,” you smiled. “Peter and I used to be best friends in high school. He could never decide what he wanted to be. After we graduated, he went to Europe, travelling around. When he came back, years later, he was a chef and his dream was to open his own place.”

“That’s nice.”

“Right? See, that’s why I regret I’ve never travelled. Not like I had the opportunity, but I wish I had.”

Steve frowned. “Why is that exactly?”

You shrugged. “Who knows. Maybe I’d be a completely different person if I had spent a few years abroad. Maybe I wouldn’t even work in this field now.”

“You’re saying that you aren’t happy with your profession?”

“No, I actually am. I… I don’t know how to explain,” you chuckled, pausing. “Sometimes I wonder how different my life could have been.”

Steve stared at you with narrowed eyes, before he shook his head with a smile.

You laughed. “You must think I’m crazy.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy. I just don’t understand you. If you feel content, why do you keep dreaming about something else - something you can’t even explain?”

“Well, Steve,” you sighed, picking up the menu again. “I am a hopeless romantic. I’m always longing after something.”

The night passed nicely. Food was great and Steve seemed to be a great listener, though he didn’t talk much at first. You tried not taking it personally or thinking that he didn’t like you. It was just the way he was, silent and brooding, though it made you feel good that you could make him smile many times during dinner. The only thing that bothered you was that he was constantly checking his phone. It wasn’t anything new; he did the same all the time in your meetings and you remembered him always glancing at the little device at the team building event as well. Perhaps it was a force of habit. You promised yourself you wouldn’t comment on it - he was your boss, after all - but you were itching to know whether he thought you were boring or he just couldn’t stop thinking about work. 

“Is everything okay?”

Steve looked up, a little startled, before he locked his phone and slipped it back to his pocket. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, you just look… worried.”

Taking a sip of his beer, Steve leaned back in the chair with a sigh. He never opened up easily to others, but with you, for some reason, it seemed almost effortless. “Sarah is with Peggy all week and I keep worrying about her all the time.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows. “I mean, she’s with her mother. What could go wrong?”

“I don’t know,” he let out a worried laugh. “I don’t know. I think—I feel more relaxed when she’s with me. Otherwise I keep checking my phone all the time, waiting for a message or a call from the person she’s with. If I see them calling I’m scared I’m getting bad news, that something has happened to her. If they aren’t calling, well… sometimes I think it’s even worse.”

“Wow…” you said slowly.

“Now you must think I am the crazy one here.”

“No,” you chuckled. “No, you’re fine. Every parent worries about their children.” 

“Right,” Steve muttered under his breath, blindly staring at the table. That moment you understood why he was working so late on a Friday night: he needed a distraction. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Are you…” He paused, staring off into the distance, looking like he wasn’t sure how to put his thoughts into words. He squirmed in his chair, before his gaze found you again. “You’re not married, right? And you live alone?”

His question took you by surprise; he could clearly see that on your face.

“God, I’m sorry. I know it sounds like—you know what, nevermind.” 

“Well, I definitely want to know now where you’re going with this,” you said, still confused but sounding confident. “I’m single. And I live alone.” 

“And you don’t have children.”

“Definitely no.”

He hesitated before asking his next question, but his eyes never left yours. “Aren’t you lonely?”

If someone else had asked the same question in the same context, there was a chance you would have taken it as an offense; why would anyone think you were lonely only because you were a single woman without children? But you understood that it wasn’t Steve’s intention to offend you. He was sincerely curious and perhaps, he was looking for some solace in your answer. 

“No,” you said quietly, but firmly. “I mean, I have periods when I feel lonely, but the thing is, I love my life. I have a great job which keeps me very busy. I have enough free time to keep in touch with my friends but I like spending time alone as well. Actually, I don’t remember the last time I was bored. I’m not even sure how I could fit a relationship into my life right now. If someone comes - they have to be really special,” you smiled, taking a sip from your drink and hoping he didn’t misunderstand you.

“So you don’t want a relationship?”

You gave a small shrug. “I don’t, but I’m not against it either. I value my alone time. I don’t want to waste this time on anything or anyone who could make my life worse,” you said, laughing. “I sound awful. What I’m trying to say is that… I love doing things by myself and I never feel its necessary to do them with someone else. Yes, it’s great to share your life with people you love, but I feel comfortable enough to be alone.”

Steve didn’t say anything but he had a small, nostalgic smile on his lips. He seemed to be lost in his thoughts, so you decided to break the silence.

“Or do you think people can only feel complete in a relationship?”

“No… no,” he replied with a frown. He sounded confused, struggling with his feelings. “I think I’ve been feeling a little lost lately.”

“Maybe you just don’t like being alone,” you suggested. “Not everyone’s like me.”

Steve shook his head. “I used to spend a lot of time by myself when I was younger and I never had a problem with it.”

“Well then you probably forgot how to be alone,” you said, earning a sceptical laugh from Steve. “You did! You had free time tonight, and instead of doing something you’d enjoy, you were working. I’m sure you have hobbies.”

He let out a long breath. “I don’t know.”

“Everyone has something they love doing. Even if it’s something like watching movies.”

“I used to love to go to the cinema.” 

“See? When was the last time you’ve watched something that wasn’t Frozen or Masha and the Bear?”

Steve closed his eyes and laughed; it was funny, a little scary, but also somehow a relief how much you saw through him. “I can’t even remember. The other night I wanted to watch something but Toy Story was already in the DVD player so I just ended up watching that.” 

“Okay, please do yourself a favour,” you started after a loud sigh, leaning closer across the table. “And tomorrow, take yourself out to the cinema.” 

“You know what? I will.”

The rest of the night passed in a lighter mood. There was a time when you used to think Steve was boring and aloof, cold and the kind of person who didn’t know how to have fun, but he quickly proved you wrong. It was very easy to talk to him about different topics, whether it was something important or less serious. He had strong opinions and was passionate about everything he loved, but he never cut you off and always listened to what you had to say with genuine interest. And the way he talked about his daughter, with so much adoration, made your heart swell. 

It was getting late - the restaurant slowly emptied when the first, long silence sat between you. You were surprised, but it didn’t feel awkward at all. The temperature started dropping and noticing your light shiver, Steve had draped the jacket of his suit over your shoulders. You glanced at your watch and your eyes almost went wide seeing you had spent more than four hours together. It felt like minutes.

“Y/N, I’ve been thinking a lot this week,” Steve said, resting his arms on the table. “I know I don’t say things enough - to any of you, actually - but I’m very pleased with your work. You’re a hard worker, a fast learner, and you deserve so much more than I’ve given you.”

Even though you weren’t exactly sure where he was going with this, the sound of it made your heart beat faster. It was so rare he complimented you, that when he did, it filled you with great pride. 

“I’d like to promote you to marketing executive. If you’re interested, of course.”

“What?!” You blurted out, grinning. “But—I’ve spent less than a year here and—are you serious?”

It seemed as though your reaction amused Steve, who couldn’t stifle a laugh. “And during that time you’ve done more for the growth of the company than most of us. You’ve already been doing three people’s jobs here. Basically, _you _alone _are _the marketing department at the Red Wing. So, yes. I am serious.”

It wasn’t an exaggeration. You had learned from Angie - who always knew everything that was happening and had happened years ago inside the publishing house - that Steve’s father never employed a marketing expert. He saved money on a professional and tried to work it out with people within the company, which obviously didn’t go well. You were the third person at the Red Wing in this position, but Steve was still testing the waters, trying to find out how to build up this department. 

“I’ve already talked with Sam and Natasha and they both supported the idea. We could hire a marketing assistant so they could help you with your work, too.”

“Oh my God,” you said slowly, feeling a little giddy. Your hands went to your face, touching your cheek, your skin burning. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“Well, I’m hoping you’d say yes.”

“Yes!” you said quickly. “Yes, of course and—thank you for the opportunity. I just feel like I should’ve sounded more… professional.”

Steve scrunched up his nose, heaving a sigh, but his smile never faltered. In that moment, he not only seemed years younger, but he also made you forget that he was the same person who infuriated you so many times in the past months.

“Please don’t. Let’s leave that for Monday.”

You gave him an excited smile and gladly agreed to celebrate with a glass of champagne with him before leaving. This was definitely not how you had expected your night to go. 


	5. Chapter 5

The weekend came and went quickly as it always did, but when the alarm woke you up early next Monday, pleasant excitement filled you. Up until you had finally signed the new contract in Steve’s office, you couldn’t quite believe he had promoted you. Since you had started working at the Red Wing, he was one of those people who very rarely made you feel like you were truly appreciated there, even though you had always been working hard. A promotion was something you could never even have dreamt of. 

The news spread like wildfire and by the end of the day, the entire company knew that you were now a marketing executive. As you had a good relationship with most of your colleagues, they all seemed to be genuinely happy on your achievement. There were a few people who only congratulated you because they felt like they had to, like Dorothy from HR, who even made a remark about how strange it was that you got a promotion after being with them for less than a year. It bothered you at first, but you tried not to dwell on it and enjoy your success. 

The new position had its disadvantages: you had to work with Steve even closer than before. While he gave you a free hand with most things, he also involved you in projects only he and Sam knew about before. It meant you had no other option but to spend more time in his office. Usually, it wasn’t a problem, but he had the tendency to be annoyingly stubborn and hot-headed, to the point that sometimes you had to take a few deep breaths and remind yourself that you shouldn’t lash out at him; _not again_.

A couple of weeks went by quickly without you noticing, and you were still looking for the new marketing assistant. You were glad Steve decided to hire someone; if there was another expert you could share the work with, it would lift a lot of the stress off of your shoulders. After Dottie selected the best of the many candidates, you and Steve called each of them in for an interview. Meeting them in person didn’t make your job any easier. Most of the applicants were great and enthusiastic to work for a publishing house; it seemed impossible to choose one.

“What about him?” Steve asked, sitting closer to you on the couch so you could take a better look at the CV he was holding. You had spent the entire morning in his office, talking about the upcoming book festival and trying to decide who you should hire. “He has two years of experience and he’s fluent in three languages. He has great contacts too.”

“I don’t know,” you pouted. “I’m sure he’s great in his job but he acts like he knows _everything_.”

“So what?”

“I don’t want to work with a guy like that. One is more than enough.”

“Ouch,” Steve said without looking up from the stock of papers in his lap, but from the tiny smile that formed in the corner of his lip, you knew your words hadn’t offended him.

“What about her?”

Steve heaved a sigh at the sight of the CV, quickly reading through your little handwritten notes in the margins. He glanced at you, though your eyes were still on the paper, brows furrowed in concentration. As he watched you, he had an urge to smile, but he managed to hold it back. He clearly remembered when a couple days ago the two of you interviewed Wanda Maximoff; he could have sworn she was your favourite. 

“She just moved here and she’s very inexperienced.”

“She majored in marketing and she had smaller, relevant jobs while she was still a student. She’s very ambitious. Trust me, she’s a much better choice.”

“I’ll think about it,” Steve said after a little pause, even though he had already made his decision. 

As a cue to your well deserved break, your stomach gave a long, loud rumbling sound that made Steve laugh. He lifted his hand to glance at his watch, collecting the papers as he stood up from the couch. “It’s late. You should take your lunch break.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice; you were starving and after sitting in one place for so many hours, your brain had started to feel exhausted. Grabbing your phone and your notebook, you started towards the door, but before you stepped out of his office, something came to your mind. Never once had you seen him during lunch; not in the kitchen and not anywhere else where you usually ate. For a few short moments you stood there, thinking that maybe it was none of your business and you should just head out, but your curiosity won over.

“Aren’t you hungry?”

Steve glanced up from behind his desk, still standing while he sorted out some documents. “I usually go to the gym during my lunch break.”

“You go to the gym in your lunch break? Well, that… explains _a lot_.”

As much as you tried to force yourself to maintain eye contact, your gaze involuntarily fell on the bulging bicep under his dark shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and providing a great view on the swelling veins in his forearms. You could only hope he didn’t notice your little ogling, but when you looked up at him again, his head was slightly bowed and he was rubbing his nape. 

“I have a lot of pent-up energy.”

“Good for you. I can’t even bring myself to work out after I go home. I usually just pass out.”

Steve smiled. “Aren’t you overworking yourself?”

“Yeah, maybe. My boss keeps me very busy.”

“Sounds like he’s an asshole.”

You laughed and turned to leave, but stopped once again with your hand on the doorknob. “Would you like to join me? You could use a break too.”

Steve looked surprised, to say at least, but he only hesitated for a moment before he accepted your invitation. 

Only ten minutes later, you were sitting across each other in the little diner that you had found nearby a couple months ago. The food was great and it seemed as though Steve was pleased with everything as well. 

“How do you know all the good places in Brooklyn?” He asked while he finished the last bits of his meal. 

“Because I spend my lunch break eating, you know, like a normal person.”

“Well, that’s fair.”

Steve fell silent and his smile slowly faded while he stared at his empty plate. He got lost in his thoughts in the moment neither of you were talking, and once again, you understood why he needed the constant distraction. He didn’t say a word, but you could practically see how easily his thoughts wandered, shutting out the world around him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he replied, but seeing you believed none of that, he sighed and gave in. He still wasn’t entirely sure why he opened up to you so easily, but there was something in your personality that he found very appealing. “You know… none of my employees have ever asked me to do anything with them outside work.”

You pressed your lips into a tight line, trying to choose your words carefully. “Maybe they’re a little scared of you.”

“Scared, huh?” Steve nodded slowly. “They hate me.”

“No one hates you!” You said a little louder than you intended to, not sounding honest at all. “I mean—”

“It’s okay,” Steve waved with a smile on his lips that didn’t reach his eyes. “When my father led the company, he always said to me, “you can’t be their boss and their friend at the same time”. I don’t know. Maybe it was bullshit. But it kind of stuck with me.”

_Oh._

“Listen, I didn’t know your father, but _this is_ bullshit,” you said, making Steve lifting his gaze at you. “My ex-boss and I had a very good relationship and she was one of the most inspirational people in my life. She was friendly with everyone and she could still do her job perfectly well.” 

Steve gave an uncertain nod, his gaze dropping once more. The sudden urge of comforting him washed over you and without thinking about it twice, you reached across the table and put your hand on top of his.

“No one hates you, Steve. Okay, maybe I did, I admit that, but not anymore. Honestly, I think I was just angry at you and everyone told me I was overreacting, so…” 

He gave a quiet laugh, watching you while you spoke.

“Since I’m in this position and I have to work with more people, I understand that sometimes you have to make decisions without having a choice. Decisions that aren’t going to make you everyone’s favourite. That happens when you have to lead people. But being a little friendlier isn’t going to make you any worse at your job.”

Steve smiled; it was a genuine smile. He shifted his hand so it was on top of yours, squeezing it in a loving way that made your heart beat faster. “Thank you,” he said quietly, pulling his arm back. As he leaned against the chair and heaved a long sigh, it seemed as he felt somewhat relieved. “You don’t have that kind of problem though. Everyone likes you.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” you said with a small shrug. “I just seem very positive. Most people prefer to be around positive people.” 

“Just seem?” Steve asked, not missing the way you phrased yourself. He saw as you hesitated, biting your lip and casting your eyes down before you looked up at him again.

“Everyone has bad days, even if they don’t show it.” 

Steve didn’t remember if he had ever seen you sad—maybe exhausted or infuriated, but it was very rare when you let these emotions take control for too long. It made him wonder how many times you had had one of those bad days at work without him or anyone else noticing.

* * *

The first weeks of autumn passed in the blink of an eye and in no time, it was already the middle of October. Work kept you busy as always, but after Steve hired Wanda, life became a lot easier. Steve was right; she was inexperienced and it showed in her work, but with a little guidance she learned very quickly. Soon you could entrust her to do the smaller tasks alone, which meant you could focus on more important things - and have a little more free time as well. 

Nothing special happened that was worth mentioning until a chilly October morning. As always, you were among the first to arrive at the publishing house, still sleepy and exhausted after the past couple days. There was another book festival coming up this weekend—it wasn’t the Red Wing’s, but you attended it, along with many of your authors. You helped with the preparations a lot, but as much as you loved organizing these events, they drew out a lot of your energy.

When you stepped into your office, feeling cold and a little grumpy, the sight of the tulips in a vase on your desk made you freeze. Narrowing your eyes, your mind started racing. While you brought fresh flowers almost every day, you were completely sure you hadn’t got any since the last peonies withered a week ago. 

Closing the distance, you peeked into the small bucket of colorful tulips but there was no note; nothing that gave you any hints as to who would be sending you flowers and why. You lifted the vase and inhaled deeply, the pleasant scent involuntarily making you smile. 

In the next few days, the hope of finding the mysterious person slowly died away, but before you could forget about it, there was a tiny cactus on your desk. These little surprises kept coming every so often, a couple times a month, always when you needed them the most. Sometimes there were flowers, sometimes sweets, sometimes a note that told you to have a good day, written by hand but in block letters so you wouldn’t recognize the handwriting. The gifts never failed to put a smile on your lips as the person who sent them seemed to know you quite well, but it drove you crazy that you had no idea who it was. No one saw anyone stepping in or out of your office, which you thought was unbelievable, considering everyone around you worked with their doors left open. 

You decided to keep it quiet to avoid rumours, but Angie, as always, stepped into your office at the worst moment.

“This is so strange,” you mumbled to yourself, grasping the little box of macarons that had appeared on your desk while you were away only for an hour. 

“What is?” Angie asked, leaning against the doorpost. You hesitated at first, but it had been going on for weeks now and you were _dying _to tell it to someone who may have had known something. While you filled Angie in on the details, she listened to you with wide eyes. “You have a secret admirer?!” She asked loudly, hand over her heart. “This is so romantic.”

“I don’t know,” you whined, biting into the macaron that tasted like heaven. You pushed the box closer to your friend who gladly accepted it. “_It is_ strange. How do they know so much about my favourite things? What if it’s a stalker?”

“It’s not that hard really. Jesus, this tastes so good,” Angie said, sitting down. “You are always running around with snacks and flowers. Oh, but that means it’s someone from here, right? Oh my God. Who could it be? I bet it’s Luis. He has a huge crush on you. Or maybe Felicia! I hope it’s Felicia. You’d be cute together.” 

“Angie, please calm down,” you groaned, deep down already regretting saying anything. Your gaze fell on the folder she was holding, and before she could open her mouth, you quickly spoke up. “Anything for me?”

“Yes. And no,” Angie said, putting a few papers down on the desk in front of you. “The boss asked me to make a logo for the new stores. I thought I’d show them to you first.” 

“I love this one,” you pointed at one of the many prints after a quick look, before picking out another. “But this one’s more classic. Steve’s gonna choose this.”

“I thought so too,” she said, sliding the papers back into the folder. There was a smug smile on her lips, eyes narrowed. “Since when do you call him Steve? And not… incompetent asshole or something like that?”

“I’ve never called him that.”

“I’m sure you said something similar,” she replied, before gasping loudly. “Is there something going on between you two? Oh my God, is he your secret admirer? Or maybe not so secret? I can’t believe you’ve been keeping this from me—”

“Angie,” you cried, running your hands through your hair. “Stop reading so many romance novels.”

“I can’t. That’s basically my job.”

Before she could go on, your phone started ringing, much to your relief. 

“Saved by the bell,” Angie said, standing up with a smirk. “But we’re not done yet.”

* * *

Thankfully, Angie didn’t bring up Steve or your “secret admirer” for the rest of the week. She was vivacious, loud, and sometimes she didn’t know when she should stop talking, but she was never one for spreading rumours. You trusted she wouldn’t start any now. 

The upcoming weekend was one of those rare ones when you could spend both days with well-deserved alone time. It was a blessing after the busy weeks you had behind, but time flew by fast while you enjoyed your rest. Sunday was gloomy and cold, but it wasn’t raining, so you decided to take a walk and go to your favourite cinema. It was a small one with only a couple of screening rooms, and never too crowded. 

After the movie ended, you stopped in the hallway to check your phone for missed calls. Thankfully, there weren’t any, but just as you dropped it back to your bag, you heard someone yelling your name. Frowning, you looked around, a grin growing on your lips when you spotted Sarah, running closer to you on her short legs, arms extended to your direction. You leaned down and picked the giggling girl up who immediately hugged you close. It made your heart melt. You had only seen her a few times since you had first met, but it seemed as though she really liked you. 

While you were holding Sarah, you caught a glimpse of Steve in the little sea of people leaving the screening rooms. He wore a white knit sweater, his daughter’s little pink backpack swung over his shoulder, both of their coats draped over his arm. He smiled as he tried to make his way through the crowd, scratching the short beard he head grown lately.

“Did you watch Frozen 2?”

“Yes!” Sarah replied while you put her down, excitedly telling you about her favourite parts from the movie. Her hair was pushed back with a glittery cat ear headband and you leaned down to adjust a few escaped strands.

“Sarah,” Steve said as he reached the two of you, a frown creasing his forehead. “Don’t run away from me like that again.”

“I won’t,” she replied quietly with a sad pout, slurping her drink through the straw from a cup with an Elsa figurine on the top.

Steve shook his head before he looked at you, smiling. “Did you watch Frozen too?”

“No, but I wish I had,” you said, thinking about the boring film you chose. 

“Daddy, I have to pee.”

Steve heaved a sigh and you could practically see as his soul left his body. He loved spending time with his daughter, but deciding which bathroom he should take the girl always caused him a headache. The men’s toilet often looked quite disgusting and there was a higher chance Sarah would see something she shouldn’t, but every time Steve walked into the ladies’ with her, he got glances that made him feel like he was some kind of a pervert. 

“Can’t it wait until we go home?”

“I need to go now!” She whined, stomping on the floor.

“I can go with her,” you offered, feeling sorry for Steve as pain plastered his face.

“Are you sure? You really don’t have to…”

“It’s fine,” you said, reaching out to take Sarah’s hand. 

There was a long queue and by the time you finished, the hallway was almost completely empty. Steve stood up from the chair where he was waiting for you, smiling as he heard his daughter’s loud giggles and your sweet laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“Sorry, but that’s between us,” you replied while Sarah still giggled.

Steve arched an eyebrow, but a smile lingered on his lips while he leaned down to help Sarah into her coat. “Ready to go home?”

“But you promised we would go to McDonald’s!” 

“We have food at home Sarah, you know I cooked,” Steve said patiently, pulling her zipper up.

“But you promised,” she almost whispered, nose scrunched up. 

“I said we’d go sometime. I didn’t say today.”

“But Steve,” you chimed in. “You promised her.”

Standing up, Steve sighed. “Whose side are you on?”

“Hers. Obviously,” you said, winking at Sarah.

“Fine, let’s go,” Steve finally gave in, making his girl jump and clap her hands. “Are you joining us?”

“Oh, I really don’t want to interrupt your daddy daughter day.”

“You wouldn’t be,” Steve shook his head. “And I think Sarah would be happy too, right?”

“Yes!” She shouted in excitement, reaching out to hug your waist. “Please come with us!”

You chuckled. “Well, how could I say no to her?”

* * *

It stunned you how different Steve’s behaviour was from the person you had got to know. Since the two of you took your lunch break together every so often, you learned that he wasn’t as bad as you used to think - you even started to grow closer to each other. He kept surprising you, showing a little more of himself each day you spent some time together. This afternoon, you felt like he was someone else. Many times you just sat back and watched them, marvelling at his interaction with his daughter. He was more relaxed than you had ever seen him before, no sign of concerned frowns or tense shoulders. Even his voice sounded different; soft and deep with a pleasant lightness to it, not the tight and toneless one you had often heard him use.

Sarah was only halfway through her meal when she asked if she could go to the playground. Steve’s worried frown returned for a minute and he hesitated, but eventually he agreed and let the girl go and have some fun, but not before he made her promise she would be careful. As she left in a hurry, Steve slipped next to you in the booth so he was facing the playground and could keep an eye on her.

When he turned to you, he noticed you were trying to hold back a grin. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” you said, a laugh bubbling out of you. “You just… look so different.”

“Yeah,” Steve said slowly, rubbing his chin. “I’ve been told I should keep the beard.”

“Not that,” you said, playfully swatting his arm with the back of your hand. “You look happier.” As he remained silent, but looked curious, you continued. “When we’re at work, I can practically feel like you’re holding your breath back. Sometimes you seem so uncomfortable and tense and…” you paused, searching for the right words; you didn’t want to say unhappy or depressed, after all. “Like you would rather be anywhere else.”

Steve cast his eyes down, fighting to keep his smile on. It amazed and scared him at the same time how easily you saw through him. He knew he had to be careful, because as much as he trusted you, you were still his employee. He couldn’t just admit he looked like he would rather be anywhere else because he would really rather be anywhere else most of the time. There was a mask he put on every morning and he rarely let anyone to catch him without it, so much so that sometimes even Steve himself forgot what was he like without it. 

“Well, you know,” he started, finding your gaze again. “She brings out the best in me.”

It was undoubtedly true, but you felt like there was something more to the story, something he wasn’t ready to share with you just yet. You were curious to know what it was, debating silently whether you should ask him or avoid the subject, but Steve broke the silence before you could decide.

“You’re great with kids, by the way.”

You blinked, startled as he shook you out of your thoughts. “Oh, trust me, I’m not. Sarah is just an exception. Kids hate me.”

Steve furrowed his brows, nose scrunched up in a similar way Sarah did too. It was rare when you saw it from him, but the resemblance was so striking it nearly made you laugh out loud. “I’m sure they don’t hate you.”

“They sure do. The other day a baby looked at me and started crying. I didn’t do anything,” you said, lifting your hands up defensively. “It happens all the time. When will a baby finally look at me and just start giggling stupidly?”

Steve chuckled. “I’m sure it will happen. If not sooner then with your own baby.”

It was your turn to avoid his eyes, clearing your throat before you looked at him again. “Yeah. I don’t really have to worry about that.” Seeing Steve’s questioning look, his head slightly tilted on the left, you went on. “I’m not sure I want children.”

“Can I ask you why? Or just… no reason?” Steve asked; you could read nothing off his face.

You shrugged. “No reason. There’s just—I like kids but—I don’t want to be a mother. I think, for me, the reason is similar to why I don’t feel like I have to be in a relationship. I love living my life as it is. Unattached. Having a child is too much responsibility and, you know, you have to put them first but I love putting me first. At least for now, I’m still in that phrase in my life when I just want to be selfish and focus on myself. I’ve been thinking like this for as long as I can remember. Maybe it’ll stay like this and I wouldn’t feel like I am missing out at all if it does.”

Steve gave a nod. “That’s understandable.”

“Thank you for not saying that I’ll surely change my mind.”

“I guess you hear that a lot,” he replied after a short laugh. “You just know what you want. That’s great. I wish I was as smart as you are.”

He didn’t sound sad, but his words confused you. “What do you mean?”

“If I could start over, I’m not sure I’d want a kid. And definitely not so soon.”

Steve’s eyes were fixed on his hands, fiddling with a napkin. He had no idea how he had worked up the courage to say those words out loud; even though he meant them, it was something he had never even dared to share with Bucky and Sam. He tried to keep a straight face, but you could see that he felt uncomfortable. You couldn’t even imagine how heavy his heart must have felt after his confession.

“That’s a good thing you can say this out loud,” you said softly.

“Is it? Because I feel like I’m a terrible person for saying something like this.”

“You’re not. You’d be a terrible person if you made her feel like she isn’t wanted. But as far as I can see, you treat her like a princess.”

Steve smiled thankfully, looking up at you. “As a single parent, that’s the least I can do.”

Silence sat between you while neither of you said anything, just watched Sarah while she played with the other kids. There were still many things you wanted to know about Steve, but he was a very private person and you weren’t sure how much you could ask. Eventually, you decided that asking wouldn’t hurt. 

“Can I ask what happened with your ex-wife? How did you win custody?”

To your surprise, Steve didn’t hesitate much before he started to talk. “We both agreed that staying with me would be the best option for Sarah,” he said, but seeing that there were still a million questions in your eyes, he quickly continued. “Peggy and I were really young when we started dating. It was… you know. First love. We were both too blind to think rationally. We had plans for the future though. She wanted to be a reporter and me… well, I mostly just didn’t want to do anything with my father’s company. But then I asked her to marry me, she said yes, and only a couple months later she found out she was pregnant. We didn’t think it through at all. We were really excited, though. But Sarah wasn’t even born yet when the fights started.”

Steve then told you how they tried to save their marriage, promising each other that they would stop arguing once the baby was there. But despite their efforts, nothing worked out anymore; things were only getting worse until they reached a point where they were both happy when they didn’t have to see each other. Losing their cool in the heat of the arguments, they threw the ugliest things at each other’s heads. The only thing they had left in common was their love for Sarah; that’s why they decided it would be best if they divorced instead of raising their daughter in an environment like that. Peggy did what she always wanted and became a reporter, but it required a lot of travelling, so Sarah stayed with Steve.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Steve continued after a little pause, seeing that he seemed to have made you go silent with his story. “Yes, it was a failed marriage, but I’m not sad. It didn’t work out. It happens,” he said with a tiny smile, and you had to admit he truly didn’t look like he had any regrets. Their ways had separated years ago; even his deepest wounds had healed by now. “And Sarah… I knew, from the moment the nurse put her in my arms, that I would always love her in a way I’d never loved anyone else. That was real love at first sight. I’m really happy I have her. I know I’m not the best parent and I should be around more, but… I’m trying.”

“She’s an amazing kid,” you said with a fond smile. “So I think you’re doing a pretty good job.”

Steve gave you a warm and thankful smile before you decided to change the subject and talk about something happier. It was crazy how hours always seemed like minutes when you were together. By the time you left, it was already dark outside and Steve offered to drive you home. Sarah fell asleep minutes after she was in her seat, her head tilted in a weird angle and her mouth open. It made you laugh as you saw her when you climbed out of the car, peeking through the window.

“I guess she doesn’t need a bedtime story tonight,” Steve said while he walked you to the door.

You chuckled and stopped at the entrance of the building, turning to face him. “Thank you for driving me home.”

“Sure.”

The streets were dark and silent in the late Sunday afternoon. There was not a single soul around you and yet, it seemed like neither of you wanted to say goodbye. 

“You know, I think this was the first time we were together and you didn’t even mention work.”

“Really?” Steve asked, pursing his lips and narrowing his eyes like he was deep in his thoughts. “I’m glad you brought it up because I wanted to talk about this contract with—”

“No! No,” you cut him off by putting your hand over his mouth, laughing. “Don’t ruin it.”

His beard and his warm breath tickled your palm as he chuckled, lifting his arm. Steve gently wrapped his fingers around your wrist, still holding even when you pulled your hand away from his face. His gaze never left yours, boring into your eyes, and you felt like you could lose yourself in those beautiful irises. His lingering touch was tender, warm on the patch of exposed skin under the sleeve of your coat. You shivered when he suddenly let go, clearing his throat and running his hand through his hair.

“Well uh… See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” you said. “Good luck with the new Frozen song.”

Steve groaned and mumbled something like “Just when I finally got rid off Let It Snow…” while he got into the car, waiting for you to get inside before he drove away. You hurried up the stairs with light steps, thousands of thoughts flashing through your mind. There was a warm feeling spreading through your chest, something you couldn’t explain at first. Only when you walked past the mirror in your apartment, you realized that there was a huge grin on your lips.

_Oh no._


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all so much for the nice feedback, i’m absolutely overwhelmed by how many of you like this little story. :’)

The realization hit you like thunder, so loud and strong you had no idea how you didn’t notice your blooming feelings earlier. As if now you couldn’t think of anything else - _or anyone else_, and this made your days rather difficult. At first, you tried to hide it even from yourself, but it didn’t work for too long as you had to see Steve so very often. While you were busy with work, you could forget about him and this unbelievable, mess of a situation, but the moment your eyes fell on him, the emotions washed over you like tidal waves.

Sooner than you would have liked to, you had to admit there was no point in denying it. The feelings came out of the blue but burned high and bright like fire; trying to bottle them up and bury them somewhere deep was a hopeless cause. You thought it would be a good thing: if your feelings were so intense, perhaps they would go away as fast as they came. At least that was what you kept telling yourself.

You tried to think rationally and acknowledge that it had to be nothing more than an innocent crush. Steve was a handsome man, kind and gentlemanly; you were definitely not the one and only person who felt this way about him. The closer you got to him, the more you understood how easy it would be to fall head over heels in love with this man. Really, you couldn’t blame yourself for feeling a little flustered around him.

Other times, when you couldn’t take it so easy and started to feel helpless, you had almost wished Steve would start acting like an asshole again. It always had been quite easy to win your heart through genuine kindness, while the fastest way to lose you was when someone was rude and mean to everyone around them. Yes, you were glad Steve had changed and you would never want to ruin his growth, but in your final desperation, the worst thoughts crossed your mind. Having a crush on your boss could become a nightmare, and it seemed as Steve didn’t plan to make the situation easier at all. 

“Are you feeling okay?” Steve asked, concern deepening his voice. He sat across you at the round table in his office, papers covering most of the dark wooden surface. 

“Yeah, sure.” The lie came quickly after he shook you out of your thoughts, but you avoided his eyes, turning the pages in your notebook and trying to look as focused as you could. Frankly, you had no idea what he had said in the past five minutes or so; you completely zoned out. “So, the statistics of the last quarter…” 

“We’ve already talked about that.” His tone wasn’t stern; he sounded nice and maybe even a little worried. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Really, I’m fine,” you said, finally looking up at him. “I just haven’t slept much lately.” At least it wasn’t a lie.

Steve heaved a sigh and closed his laptop, pushing it away before he leaned slightly closer across the table. He reached out and grasped your forearm, his thumb tenderly brushing across your skin. His warm and gentle touch made your breath catch in your throat and send your pulse racing until you heard your heart drumming in your ears. A tight knot formed in your stomach, but at the same time, you felt as if you could melt into a puddle like ice cream on a hot summer day. He said your name so sweetly it sent a shiver up your spine. It made you feel so tiny, so fragile, and so very awkward; since when did you become a bashful teenager around someone?

“I really want you to talk to me if you think I’m giving you too much work. You’ve been in this position in a couple months now so you can see through it better. This is all new to me too so I don’t mind if you share your thoughts with me.”

“No, no,” you said with a small laugh that sounded unusually embarrassing even to your own ears. Pulling your arm back, you lifted your hands and touched your cheeks for a moment; they felt much warmer than they should. “It’s not work-related. Something personal. Nothing serious though. Don’t worry.”

Steve leaned back in the chair, eyes never leaving yours. “Are you sure? You can take a day off if you need it.”

_Oh, please, stop being so goddamn nice_. “Thank you, but I’m fine,” you replied after a quiet sigh. “A little distraction will probably even help.”

“Alright. Then finish this presentation by Monday,” he smiled, picking his laptop up and walking to his desk. “Everything’s ready for the Christmas party next week?”

“Everything’s ready,” you nodded, collecting your notebooks. If Scott hadn’t asked about the event earlier, both you and Steve would have forgotten about it. There was no time left to find a place—the best options were already all booked, so you decided to hold a party in the office. “There’s one more thing though - I know it’s a last minute idea - but I thought we could do a gift exchange.”

Steve frowned. “What, like, Secret Santa?”

“Exactly. I think it could be great. Everyone loves receiving gifts and it’s even more fun if you don’t know who’s going to give you one.”

“Right,” he smiled, scratching his nose. “It’s fine by me.”

By the end of the day, you wrote the names of all those who wanted to participate on little pieces of paper, and as you had predicted, the idea excited most of your colleagues. Each person drew a name and you made everyone promise that they wouldn’t tell anyone who they got until the day of the party. Of course, you knew there would still be some who couldn’t keep it to themselves, like Angie, who screamed the name of Felicia in the second she unfolded the paper. You were glad to get Wanda; she was still new and you were one of the few who knew well what she would be happy to get.

When you returned to your office, only to get your things and finally leave, there was another surprise waiting for you on your desk. Sighing to yourself, you picked up the package and peeled the wrapping off of it reveal a copy of The Princess Bride. With a smile, you opened the box of the DVD, eyebrows raised in surprise when you saw there was a little note inside. 

_“For Y/N, because she has exquisite taste.”_

“What the hell?” You mumbled, hiding your grinning lips behind the gift. “Who are you?”

* * *

Steve glanced up, smiling at the sound of his daughter giggling loudly at something Sam said. It was getting late; she was already wearing her pajamas, but she had red and blue tinsels loosely wrapped around her neck while they played board games on the soft rug in the living room. They had spent the entire afternoon decorating the house and the Christmas tree, which left the little girl very excited. Steve, knowing he had to spend the holidays without Sarah, still felt a bitter taste in his mouth as he looked at the colorful lights and shiny orbs, but seeing how happy it made her, he decided it was worth it. 

“You’re drawing,” Bucky spoke with narrowed eyes from the other side of the couch, making Steve turn to him. “I haven’t seen you drawing in years.”

“I still draw sometimes,” he shrugged.

“Yeah, sure. For Sarah to color them. But not like that,” Bucky said, nodding at his friend’s detailed sketch. 

Steve had to admit that Bucky was right. There were days when drawing used to be more than just a hobby for him; it was an escape from all the troubles he had and the perfect way to express his emotions. When he was younger, he couldn’t have imagined doing anything else in the future for a living. For many long years, it only brought back painful memories, but the conversations he had with you in the past months made him realize he shouldn’t give up on things he enjoyed.

“What’s going on with you lately?”

Steve blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

“You’re being distracted lately,” Bucky replied. “Not in a bad way though.”

Furrowing his eyebrows, Steve sighed and closed his sketchbook, throwing it on the coffee table. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Well, you know,” Bucky pushed, resting his arm on the back of the couch. “You aren’t all about work. You look more relaxed. You aren’t worrying about everything all the time. You’re more tolerable… it’s about a girl isn’t it?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “It isn’t about anyone. Can’t I just feel good without making this about a girl, Buck?”

Without even looking up from the game he was playing with Sarah, Sam spoke, “Are you sure it has nothing to do with a certain marketing executive?”

Steve felt heat flooding his cheeks; he could only hope the Christmas lights they put on earlier hid the deep shade of red on his face. He had always been a terrible liar, he knew his body language betrayed him, but he could do nothing to stop himself.

“No,” he said, shifting his weight and wiping his palm down on his sweatpants. “I mean, yeah, I’m sure.” He desperately tried to avoid Bucky’s gaze, already feeling his eyes on him.

“Aww, Steve,” he said slowly, and Steve’s suspicions were right; he could hear the wide grin behind his words. “You could get anyone and you’re seriously hitting on one of your employees?”

“My dad didn’t hit anyone!” Sarah’s loud, angry voice echoed in the room, making Sam laugh.

“Of course he didn’t, princess. He’s an angel.”

There were a few minutes of blissful silence while Steve naively hoped Bucky would move on and forget about what Sam said, but it was crushed when he heard his friend shifting closer to him on the couch.

“One of your employees,” he said quietly, making Steve sigh. “God, you’ve always been such a punk. Well, it’s gonna be a wild ride. But if you really like her—”

“No, Bucky. It isn’t like that,” Steve cut him off. “We’re just friends.”

“Are you really acting so strange because of a friend? I’m not judging,” he said, lifting his palms defensively. “It’s about time. You really need to get laid.”

Before Steve had a chance to say anything, Sarah’s loud voice filled the place again. “Why does he need to get laid?”

Groaning, Steve buried his face in his hands.

“You know, Sarah,” Bucky started; he was always the one who tried to give an explanation when someone said something around her they shouldn’t have. “We just say that when someone’s really tired and sleepy and they need to lie down a little. And your dad hasn’t slept in years. He really needs to.” He stopped, unable to hold back a laugh.

“Okay, time for bed,” Steve said, standing up from the couch and walking to Sarah, who quickly started protesting.

“No! Just five more minutes, please.”

“It’s already way past your bedtime.”

“But I don’t want to go to sleep!” She whined and they could all hear there were tears coming. It had been a long day; the four of them spent hours with ice skating, sledding, and decorating the house. Sarah was exhausted, and at nights like these, she tended to be a little hysterical.

“What if I read you a story tonight?” Sam asked gently. “Will you go to bed then?”

The little girl hesitated, then rubbed her eyes and gave a nod.

“Hey, I don’t even get a goodbye kiss?” Bucky asked when Sarah stood up from the floor to follow Sam. She immediately spun around, ran back and climbed up on the couch to place a big kiss on his cheek, but when Steve leaned down to her, she stormed out of the room with a loud scream. 

“What the hell have you done to her?”

“Nothing,” Steve said, plopping down on the couch. “She hates my beard.”

Bucky chuckled, before he clapped his hands and rubbed them together, not wasting a single second. “So. Who is this woman?”

Steve was torn. On one hand, he wanted to tell Bucky everything about you, but on the other hand, talking about his feelings would make everything too real. He thought he had stopped denying his feelings for you already, but now he realized he was still fiercely fighting against them. It drove him crazy and suddenly, he felt a huge weight on his shoulders. Keeping everything to himself made him exhausted; perhaps sharing some of his troubled thoughts wouldn’t be such a bad idea, after all. 

He started slowly, carefully. He told Bucky who you were, how did you get closer to each other, that you were so nice and lovely and how easy it was to talk to you—but he left many things out. It wasn’t because he didn’t trust his friend; he was simply not ready to share it with him. Or with anyone else, for that matter. It had been such a long time since he had felt something like this for someone that it felt very strange to say these things out loud. 

“Look, Bucky. There’s really nothing between us.”

“But…”

Steve let out a long breath, giving in. “Okay. Maybe I like her.”

“Oh, come on,” he tutted. “It’s never “maybe” when you fall for someone. So what’s stopping you?”

Steve looked away, resting his head on the backrest. “We’d finish sooner if I told you what isn’t stopping me,” he said. “Firstly, I am her boss.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t be the first couple in the same situation.”

“Right,” Steve nodded, closing his eyes. “But she doesn’t want a relationship.”

“Did she explicitly say that?”

“Well, no—not exactly, but—”

“But then you’re just overreacting.”

Steve lifted his head from the couch, only to stare at his hands. He fell silent, seeming to be contemplating something before he went on. “She doesn’t want kids. I already have one. This just… wouldn’t work.” 

“You know that’s not the same.”

“Maybe… but that’s still complicated.”

“Since when has complicated ever stopped you?”

“Since it isn’t only about me,” Steve said firmly, wiping the smile off Bucky’s lips. “What if we do this… What if we start dating, and it works out perfectly. Sarah grows close to her - she already loves her - then months or years later we break up. Our ways separate and eventually, we move on like nothing ever happened. But what am I going to tell Sarah if another woman in her life leaves?”

Steve bowed his head, sighing deeply. He knew most people thought it was stupid to agonize over things that might never even happen, but sometimes, when it was about to protect someone he loved, he couldn’t think straight. 

“I understand you’re scared for her, I really do,” Bucky started quietly. “But you can’t spend your entire life worrying about every little trouble that might stand in her way. She’ll be disappointed in so many people whether you’re there for her or not. That’s how it is. I’m not saying you should marry this woman right away. Ask her out. Get to know each other. See how it goes. You know, just… try to enjoy life a little. You really deserve it.” 

“Thanks, Buck,” Steve said, finally looking up at his friend. “But I’m not sure if I should take that risk.”

* * *

The morning of the Christmas party went by quickly. It would have been a slow and quiet Friday with nothing much to do, but the last preparations for the event kept you busy enough. A few people volunteered to stay in the office even after your shift ended, helping to arrange the place and put up a few extra decorations. Steve was one of those who promised he’d stay, but he disappeared sometime during the middle of the day and none of you had seen him since then. 

By the time he finally came back, most of your colleagues arrived as well. He gave off the impression of someone who was late, hurrying from one place to another and running out of breath. On the other hand, he looked sharp as always in his dark dress pants and white sweater, his face clean shaven and his hair dishevelled just enough to make him more endearing. 

Sam and Nat were standing right next to you, talking about something you could no longer pay attention to. Only when Steve’s gaze found yours through the crowd, you forced yourself to turn your attention back to the conversation. But even though your eyes weren’t on him anymore, your thoughts still circled around Steve. _When will this finally end?_

“Look who’s finally decided to grace us with his presence,” Natasha said as Steve approached you, causing him to roll his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” he addressed his words to you, stopping close to the table that was packed with many different drinks. “I know I promised I’d help but there was a PTA meeting and—” he paused, swallowing hard. He didn’t want to go into the details and tell Peggy cancelled the last minute, as she had done so many times before. Thinking about it made him clench his jaw and his pulse kick up a notch, but he kept his voice calm. “And I completely forgot about it. I’m sorry.” 

Sam’s eyes met with his and he immediately picked up on the small lie, gave him a sympathetic smile and poured him a glass of whisky.

“It’s fine,” you waved. “I’ve had enough help.”

His gaze lingered on your face longer than usual. The anger and disappointment that overwhelmed Steve only seconds ago now slowly vanished, your sweet smile making him feel much more peaceful he had felt all day. He cast his eyes down and looked around the room, complimenting you on a job very well done. The place was indeed richly decorated, maybe even a little too much, but Scott had no chill when it came to the holidays and he completely lost control when he opened the box of tinsel, glittery stars and colorful orbs. There was food and drinks from a place you loved, board games to play and music to provide a perfect atmosphere. Everyone seemed to be enjoying the party; some people even wore antlers, Santa hats and Christmas themed ties. 

“Have you tried my coconut liqueur?” Natasha stepped closer to you, handing you a mug.

“No,” you replied, lifting the drink to smell it. “Did you make this?”

“Yes. Don’t worry, it isn’t too strong. I made too much and I ran out of vodka.”

You hoped she was telling the truth. It was no secret alcohol affected you very quickly; you really didn’t want the entire company to see you in that state. As you took a small sip of the liquor, you realized Nat and you had a very different idea about strong drinks. It burned all the way down, but at the same time it tasted so sweet; you knew it would be hard to put it down. 

The evening went on nicely; much better you had expected. You had attended a few Christmas parties through the years, but it became clear soon enough that this was the best of all. There was nothing special in the event, but the amazing team this company had, made it truly great. 

Steve gave a short but heartfelt and motivating speech, something he turned out to be really good at. He surprised each of you with a bonus and said a few kind words to everyone. If someone told you months ago that he could be this nice, you would have laughed at them in the face. 

Even though you promised yourself you wouldn’t drink too much, Natasha’s tasty homemade coconut liqueur made it hard to keep your word. The alcohol hit so suddenly you had no time to stop and slow down—the light and pleasant buzz quickly changed and made your head feel heavy. 

You were more than a little tipsy by the time Angie reminded you that you still hadn’t exchanged gifts and you bumped into more than one person while you went to fetch Wanda’s from your bag. She was a huge Harry Potter Potter nerd and she had mentioned many times that she loved baking, so you got her a Harry Potter themed cookbook. She was so thrilled and perhaps a little drunk as well that she gave you a big hug that nearly swept you off your feet. 

When she left to find Scott to give him his present, you decided it would be smart to drink some water and sit down for five minutes. Only moments after you took a seat, Steve pulled out a chair to plop down next to you.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m yeah, I’m fine,” you said, a little louder than you intended, making Steve chuckle. “Just a little tipsy.”

“A little,” he nodded, watching you as you swayed, even while sitting. “You didn’t even drink that much, did you?”

“I didn’t. I just can’t really hold my beer. Like. At all. As you can see.”

He leaned closer, placing a comforting hand on between your shoulder blades. If you thought the alcohol would dull the effect he had on you, you were so wrong; if anything, it only made it stronger. His touch felt hot even through the fabric of your ugly Christmas sweater, spreading warmth along your skin. 

“Don’t you feel sick?”

“Nope,” you said with that drunk but genuine smile that made Steve’s heart soar. “I feel great.”

“Well, in that case,” Steve started, lifting up a box he was holding in his lap, “Merry Christmas.”

“Oh my God,” you whisper-screamed, burying your cheeks into your palms before you took the present. “You are my Secret Santa? This is amazing. I wonder what this could be,” you added, seeing the very telling shape of the package. 

Steve encouraged you to open it so you tore the crimson wrapping off, revealing a Beast Funko in its box.

“For your Belle,” he said after your loud gasp. “I hope you don’t have this one yet.”

“No, I don’t! Oh my God, I love it,” you nearly yelled, throwing your arms around his neck to pull him into a hug. “This is such a great gift, Steve. Thank you so much. You’re so nice, you know? So nice.” 

Maybe it was just the influence of alcohol, but his present made you feel overwhelmed. It was such a nice, thoughtful little surprise. In the past few months, the two of you had talked a lot; he knew about your hobbies, your favourite books and your favourite movies, your taste in music. There were a million things he could’ve given to you based on what you liked, or he could’ve just bought something fail-safe, but less personal. And yet, he managed to choose the one thing he learnt that you loved back when he barely knew anything about you. 

Steve chuckled at your words, rubbing your upper arm. “I’m glad you like it.”

Hours flew by fast after the gift exchange. Some people had left quite soon after that, others went home slowly during the night until only a small group of you stayed. There was only Sam, Natasha, Angie, Steve and you when you started getting sleepy and decided it was time to call it a night. You stood to clean up the mess and put the leftover food in the fridge, but Nat appeared behind you out of nowhere before you could do too much.

“Give this to me before you drop it,” she said, snatching a plate from you. “Go home and get some sleep. We got this. I’m sure Steve will take you home,” she added with a wink, walking away before you had a chance to say something.

Steve sighed, even though he knew he wouldn’t let you go alone in that state anyway. He hadn’t talked to Natasha about you, but of course she had picked up on his behaviour—she always noticed everything.

“Can I walk you home?”

“Walk me home? That’s like an hour,” you slurred, leaning against the wall to stop your swaying. “And it’s freezing. Can’t you just drive me home? Please?”

Steve helped you into your coat and took on his, chuckling. “I had too much to drink for that.”

Before he pointed it out, you didn’t notice he was tipsy as well. Certainly not as much as you were, but his eyes were shining and his cheeks were unusually flushed. His blond locks were completely out of place from running his fingers through it so many times during the night and you had the strong urge to touch it, but you kept your hands to yourself. 

“Steve,” you sighed after you said goodnight to everyone and left the building, stepping out into the cold night. “I can’t walk that much right now. Let’s call a cab.”

“Fresh air will help. Trust me, you’re going to thank me tomorrow.” 

“But I hate you now.”

He chuckled. “I can live with that.” 

The walk shouldn’t have lasted for more than an hour, but being as intoxicated as you were, it took a lot longer than that. Steve patiently slowed down to your pace and even had you hook your arm around his for some support, as you still couldn’t really stand straight. He was right, after all: the cool air and the long walk helped to clear your head, but your legs ached by the time you reached your apartment. It had been a long day, and drinking so much definitely didn’t help. Despite being so exhausted, it was fun to spend the way home with him; you were sure you had never seen him so relaxed and careless, or heard him laugh so much. 

He accompanied you into the building and helped you up the stairs, making sure you reached the flat safely. You stood with your back facing the door, secretly wishing he would stay with you a little longer. 

“Thanks for walking me home. And bearing with me.”

He nodded. “Do you still hate me?”

Pursing your lips, you held up your thumb and forefinger, barely an inch apart. “A little bit.”

Steve gave the kind of smile that made his eyes brighter, happier. Ever since you had first met him, you had always thought there was nothing but cold and sadness behind his beautiful cerulean irises, but now, while his gaze bored deeply into yours, you knew there was so much more behind them. He was so much more than he let you, or anyone else to know. 

“Steve, it’s late,” you said quietly. “You can sleep here if you want to. You can take the couch.”

“Yes. The couch,” he said, hand over his heart. “So cozy.”

“I’d offer the bed but I know you would say no.”

He nodded with a silent chuckle. “Thanks, but I really should go home. I have to pick up Sarah in the morning.”

“Okay.” You knew it was only an excuse, but you didn’t want to push him. 

His eyes were still glued to yours while he made a motion to turn and leave, but he changed his mind in the next second. “Y/N, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Yes?”

“I was thinking… maybe we could go out for dinner or drinks sometime—no, definitely not drinking—”

You cut him off with a hearty laugh. “Am I that bad when I’m drunk?”

“No, you’re not,” he smiled, taking a deep breath and slowly releasing it. “I just wanted to ask… Would you like to go on a date with me?”

His question made you freeze and you couldn’t do anything but gape like a fish. You had spent so much time in the past weeks trying to get over your feelings for him that this scenario hadn’t even crossed your mind. 

“Oh, God. Forget it,” Steve waved, taking a step backwards. “You’re drunk and I am drunk—I really shouldn’t have asked.”

“But I wanted to answer,” you said, stepping closer to him. It seemed to calm him.

“Don’t,” he said softly. “I’m gonna ask it again when we’re both sober.”

“Fine,” you said. “I hope you won’t forget it.”

He didn’t say anything, but smiled gently. You didn’t think he would lie, or that he only asked you out because he was tipsy, but it still spread fear through you. He just asked a question you didn’t even dare to dream of to hear, but now it was all you could think of. You knew that from the moment you wake up tomorrow, while suffering from nausea and the shooting pain in your head, you wouldn’t be able to stop checking your phone and waiting for his call. 

“Well… goodnight then,” he said, and at the same moment, you both made a step to close the distance. His hug was so warm and comforting, his arms strong but keeping them around you gently, you wondered how nice it would feel to fall asleep in his grasp. 

Steve pulled back but his arms stayed around you, while your hands slipped back to rest on his shoulders. You felt so small under his heavy stare that you had to drop your gaze, but it stopped and lingered on his lips, before you found his eyes again.

“You got rid of the beard,” you said, fingertips brushing lightly against his jawline. 

Steve felt goosebumps breaking out all over his skin. “Yeah. No one gave me goodnight kisses anymore.”

“I would’ve,” you said with a laugh, unable to stop yourself.

His smile grew, before it slowly faded. He glanced down on your lips, only for a short second, licking his own. Steve felt heat spreading through his chest, his head light, and he knew it had nothing to do with the alcohol. He saw as you tilted your head, shifting closer. 

“You smell like coconut,” he said, low and deep, but with a smile behind his voice. “And vodka. And gingerbread.”

“So charming. I bet you’re burning to kiss me.”

“I am,” Steve whispered weakly, his warm breath tickling your cheeks. He felt his heart beating rapidly as you leaned closer, but before your lips connected, he bowed his head and pressed his forehead against yours. “I am,” he repeated, more firmly. “I really want to kiss you. But we should leave this for a moment when we’re both sober.”

You sighed, smiling, feeling thankful and only a little disappointed, but only because you longed to kiss him so badly. There was no rush, and if he could be patient, you could wait a little longer, too. 

[ 15](https://marvelcapsicle.tumblr.com/post/189758605582/just-like-heaven-chapter-6)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so, so sorry it took me literally forever to finish this chapter. I really enjoy writing this story so I will finish it, don’t worry! Thank you for being patient! ♡

When Steve woke up with a roaring headache, he realized, once again, that he was too old to drink. He was only tipsy at the company’s Christmas party, but apparently, it was enough to make his hangover nearly unbearable. He squeezed the pillow closer to his chest, burying his face deeper into the soft material, relishing the pleasant coolness of the case against his kin. He almost drifted back to sleep, but he forced his eyes open, squinting and cursing for not pulling the covers down when he came home last night. The bright morning light poured in through the windows and assaulted his eyes, sending a new wave of shooting pain through his temples. 

Steve threw the blanket off his half-naked form, sat up slowly to avoid the room spinning around him, and gripped the edge of the bed for some support. _What a night_, he thought, and despite the throbbing ache in his head and the uneasy sensation in his stomach, he smiled. It had been such a long time he felt this way, so excited and overwhelmingly giddy, but lately, he had found himself smiling for no reason quite often. 

Except, he knew the exact reason behind his high spirits. He had a lot of time contemplating why his mood lifted so quickly each time he could spend some time with you, even though there was nothing to mull over about it. The answer was clear and right in front of his eyes, but he still had his doubts when it came to fully embracing his emotions. Of course, it didn’t mean he could stop thinking about the way you looked at him, or that he wouldn’t smile immediately when he remembered the sound of your laugh. 

Sighing, Steve reached for his phone, relieved that for a change, there were no missed calls waiting for him. There was only one message he received hours ago—a picture of Sarah, curled up on the couch, watching cartoons and cuddling Bucky’s cat close to her chest. Warmth filled Steve’s heart and he chuckled, wishing he could be there with his little girl. He sent a thumbs up in response, practically hearing his friend’s groans because he could never send him more than an emoji. Steve hated texting, and yet, he found himself opening an empty chat and typing the words before he could think it through. 

_Morning. How are you? I hope your hangover isn’t as bad as mine._

Locking his phone, Steve let himself fall back on the mattress, not expecting a reply right away but still hoping he would see your name light up on the screen. He lay there for a few more minutes before he realized he was being utterly ridiculous. He was a grown-up. A father. A CEO of a publishing house. He couldn’t spend his entire morning in bed, clasping his phone and waiting with bated breath for a woman to text him back.

After a refreshing shower, some easy breakfast and a few painkillers, Steve left for Bucky’s place to pick up Sarah. Being a full-time writer, Bucky spent a lot of time at home; it wasn’t rare that he watched over the girl. 

However, when Steve knocked on the front door, it wasn’t his childhood best friend who greeted him.

“What are you—” he started, but paused as he changed his mind midway through the sentence. Nat definitely didn’t look like she just arrived with flour smudged over her black leggings, wearing Bucky’s wrinkled Depeche Mode t-shirt which was nearly as old as their friendship. “You know what, I don’t want to know.”

“It’s nice to see you too,” Natasha said, rolling her eyes while Steve stepped into the apartment, untangling his scarf and hanging up his coat. 

“When did you get here?”

“Not much after you left the party,” she explained, adjusting the messy bun on the top of her head. “You know how it is with James when he starts writing. He could stay up all night. So I kept him company.” 

Steve’s palm landed against the wall just as he took his boots off, trying to regain his balance while he shot a suspicious look at Natasha.

“Don’t worry. We didn’t do anything that isn’t appropriate for a child’s ears.”

Steve took a deep breath and decided to let go of the subject. He had barely stepped into the living room when he heard the sound of small, quick footsteps, followed by his daughter’s loud and cheerful voice.

“Daddy!” Sarah yelled as she rushed towards him, raising her arms as she always did when she wanted to be picked up. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Steve leaned down and lifted her from the floor, but his smile turned into a frown when he could take in her appearance from up close. Dried dough and something that was probably blue cake frosting covered her hands, from the tip of her fingers up to her elbows; little remnants smudged across her flushed cheeks and colouring her chin. “So I guess you’ve been baking.”

Sarah gave an excited nod, moving loose strands of hair out of her face and smearing more cake batter in her dark locks in the process. “Uncle Bucky let me lick the bowl.” 

“Yeah, I can see that,” Steve said, waving at Bucky who washed the dishes, before he put the girl down. She looked more like she had helped clean out an entire bakery. “You had fun?”

“Nat painted my nails,” Sarah exclaimed, waving her hands in front of her face to show off her glittery nails. “And we watched The Princess and the Frog and she read me a story before bed.”

“She read you a bedtime story?” Steve asked with knitted eyebrows, turning to Natasha. “You came here after the party.”

“Your daughter is a snitch,” Nat whispered, before she crouched down to Sarah. “How about we wash all this dirt out of your pretty hair and then I make you a nice braid?”

“Yes!” Sarah said keenly, before her face changed. “But I_ have to_finish the bowl first,” she went on, running back to the kitchen and nearly sweeping Bucky off his feet who joined them in the living room.

“Jesus, Steve. Give her some sugar sometimes. The kid has serious withdrawal symptoms.” 

“That’s because you’re always feeding her with sweets,” Steve replied, dropping himself on the couch and pinching the bridge of his nose. Painkillers didn’t seem to ease his headache. “And her bedtime is still 7:30, not way past after midnight.” 

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist,” Nat said, leaning against the backrest of the armchair where Bucky sat. “She’s fine.”

“Besides,” Bucky raised a hand, his index finger pointing up while he spoke. “She didn’t want to go to sleep. What was I supposed to do?”

Steve ran his hand down his tormented face. “She’s five. You can say no to her.”

“And when could James ever say no to a girl?” 

While Bucky ardently disagreed, Steve hid a smile and stood up to help himself with a glass of water. Sarah still sat on the tile floor, getting the last bits of the treasured sweets.

“You’re going to get a tummy ache.”

She hummed and shook her head, before lifting the bowl toward Steve. “Do you want some too, daddy?”

“No, thank you,” he said with a sleepy smile. He felt his phone buzzing in his jeans and decided to ignore it, but when he remembered he was waiting for a text from you, he hastily pulled the device out of his pocket.

_Sorry, I just woke up. Do you feel better? I’m pretty sure it’s worse than yours. I don’t think I can leave my bed today._

Suddenly, his hangover didn’t feel as bad as a minute ago. 

_Much better. Try to eat something and stay hydrated. _

Steve watched as the three dots moved up and down, more and more nervous by every second. After a minute, he started to frown; even more so when he saw your short answer.

_Yes, boss. :)_

He wondered what you wanted to say initially, but he tried not to dwell on it too much. When he returned to his friends a minute later, Steve couldn’t not notice how quickly they both fell silent. He felt their gaze on him, but he avoided their eyes, trying to stifle the smile that still danced on the corner of his lips. 

“Are you going to keep us in the dark or will you finally share some details?” Bucky asked slowly, making Steve look up at him.

“About what?”

“Well, a little bird told me you walked someone home last night.”

Steve cast his eyes down again and fiddled with a thread on the old jeans he chose to put on that morning. His pulse kicked up a notch and he wished that Bucky and Natasha would stop staring at him like he was about to drop the hottest gossip of the year. “Okay—yeah, I did. But nothing happened if that’s what you want to know. I just walked her home because she was drunk.”

“Oh, you’re such a noble knight in shiny armour,” Nat said. “Did you sleep over too to make sure there were no monsters under her bed?”

Steve heaved a long, exhausted sigh while Bucky snickered under his breath, but before he could say anything, Sarah raced into the room to save her dad from more questions. The bowl was surely crystal clear by now, because she looked more like a walking cake than a child. While Natasha took her into the bathroom to help her to get cleaned up, Bucky wasted no time to continue his friend’s interrogation.

“So that’s it? Really?”

A smile tugged on Steve’s lips; something that nothing could wipe off his face since he woke up that morning. “I asked her out.”

Bucky threw his hands up in the air, letting them fall heavily and smacking loudly against his thighs. “And that’s nothing to you? What did she say?”

“Nothing,” Steve replied, making his friend raise his eyebrows. “Because I asked her not to.”

“Wait,” Bucky said after long moments of silence, shaking his head as if he wasn’t sure he heard it right. “You asked her out… and before she could answer… you told her that she shouldn’t answer? What the hell, Steve?”

“She was drunk, Buck.” Steve’s tone was patient, like he was explaining it to a child, before he started rambling without barely taking a breath. “I shouldn’t have asked her in the first place. What if she said yes and then the next day, she realized it wasn’t what she wanted? And then I’d be only more disappointed when she tells me no. Or what if she said yes only because she felt she had to after she’d already said it when she was drunk?”

Bucky sucked in a sharp breath, massaging his temples. “You’re giving me an aneurysm.” 

“This isn’t funny.” 

“Well, you sure are being ridiculous,” Bucky said. “So she just let it go?”

Steve hesitated, deciding he would keep your almost-kiss to himself. “I promised her I’d ask her again when we’re both sober.” 

“And you will,” Bucky said with narrowed eyes. “Right?”

“Yeah. I will.”

Bucky blinked, surprised that it went so smoothly. He didn’t have any doubts about how much Steve wanted to be with you—he just knew that his friend tended to overthink the simplest things. “Good,” he added, leaning back in the armchair. “Your ma would box your ears if you let her slip through your fingers.”

A bittersweet smile lifted Steve’s lips. If she was still alive, his mother would be the first person he would talk to about you. There were so many times when he would have given anything to hear her advice and it made his heart ache that he couldn’t. It was undoubtedly one of those days. He wished he could tell her about you, ask her opinion on what he should do, maybe even introduce the two of you to each other—

Steve cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. The fact that he was thinking about how much she would have loved if you could meet his mother made him realize his feelings might be even stronger than he originally thought. 

“Are you staying for lunch?” 

Bucky’s voice shook Steve out of his thoughts. He checked his watch, sighing. “Can’t. We have to be at the airport in two hours.”

“Oh,” Bucky’s eyes lit up brighter and he rubbed his palms together. “That means you’re free tonight. So you’re going out with us.”

Steve felt way too hungover to go anywhere, but there was one thing that hadn’t changed: he still hated to be alone in his house while Sarah was away. Instead of going home and getting some sleep, he chose distraction.

* * *

The day had passed like any other that you had to spend with a hangover. You woke up late, regretting that you had even looked in the direction of any alcoholic beverage. Tried to force down some food, coffee, water—anything you knew that could relieve the pain. Went for a short walk around the block, hoping that the clear, cold air could help to ease how miserable you felt. Took a nap after every small chore you had managed to get done, promising yourself you would never drink again. 

By the time your headache had finally gone, it was too late to do anything in particular. Curled up on the couch, you got lost in the steamy romance novel Angie had recommended to you, attempting to keep your mind busy. Because whether you liked it or not, it was really hard to keep your thoughts away from Steve and what happened between the two of you last night. 

If it wasn’t for his text that waited for you when you woke up late this morning, perhaps you would be deeply ashamed of your behaviour. In a way, you were, so much that you couldn’t even send him a proper apology and rather deleted the message before you could send it. But he texted you instead of ignoring you, so you couldn’t be that bad, could you?

The buzz of your phone on the coffee table startled you, making you jolt under the blanket. It was getting late; you didn’t expect a text from anyone. When you saw Steve’s name on the screen, a grin spread across your face. 

_I hope you are feeling better. _

The message was short, but it was enough to make your heart beat faster. You chewed on your lower lip, trying not to overreact the fact that he was checking in on you the second time that day.

_I am, thank you. I’ve been sleeping all day so I’ll be probably up late tonight. How about you?_

His response came quite quickly considering how slowly he was typing. 

_I’ve survived so far. I’m in a bar with a few friends but everything smells like beer and I’m starting to regret that I left the house. _

Steve’s answer made your eyebrows knit together. You wondered why he decided to go to a bar with a hangover and why was he still there if he didn’t want to, but while you typed the question, it clicked to you. If he wasn’t at home, it meant that Sarah wasn’t, either. He told you himself, you remembered well, how worried he was whenever his daughter wasn’t with him; so much that he couldn’t even stay in the house by himself. Wishing you could provide him with an escape, your fingers tapped across the screen and pressed “send” before you could stop yourself. 

_Do you want to come over? We could watch a movie. I promise nothing smells like beer here. _

Steve had left you on read for six and a half minutes, not like you were miserably checking the time, before he finally replied, 

_I’ll be there in a few minutes._

For long moments, you gaped at the screen silently, rereading his words over and over again, like you were expecting them to disappear. 

“Holy shit,” you said it out loud, as if it only dawned to you now that you _really _asked him to come over and he _really_ accepted the invitation. Half-panicking, you jumped up from the couch, untangling yourself from the blanket that was wrapped around you in the past hours. _A few minutes?_ That wasn’t enough time to make yourself presentable from the couch-potato mode you had been in all day.

And sure enough, within less than fifteen minutes, Steve knocked on the front door. You didn’t make him wait but stopped with your hand on the doorknob to take a deep breath, before you opened the lock. 

“Hi,” he said with a near bashful smile that you had never seen from him before. “Are you sure you don’t mind… I know it’s late—”

“No, come on in,” you waved, stepping aside and opening the door wider so he could step in. 

Perhaps Steve was still suffering from the consequences of last night, but he surely didn’t look like he was. You expected to see a sleep-deprived man who had been battling with a headache and dehydration all day, but he looked just as gorgeous as on any other day. The cold winter weather painted his cheeks and the tip of his nose red, his always well-kept hair gently tousled. He had a short stubble over his face and his neck, only a little more than a shadow, something that would be enough to make your skin tingle—

_Oh, no. I can’t go there._

“Welcome to my palace,” you said, walking back deeper into the room. “I know it’s huge but please don’t feel intimidated.” 

Steve chuckled, running his gaze around the place. From where he stood, he could see pretty much everything of your home. The small kitchen, the cosy living room; even a glimpse of your bedroom that was only separated from the living room with a bookshelf. He noticed how nicely the apartment was furnished and decorated, like it was a model out of one of those home decor magazines, topped up with a lot of personal touches that made it look so welcoming and inviting.

“You have good taste.” 

“Thank you. I just wish it was bigger,” you smiled at Steve who finished discarding his coat and his shoes, making his way closer to you while he pushed the sleeves of his navy sweater up to his elbows. “When I moved to Brooklyn I thought a tiny studio apartment would be more than enough for me. I’m alone, I’m barely here… But I don’t have a room for _anything_. Look at this,” you opened your arms, gesturing around. “I have space for one bookshelf.” 

Steve smiled as he glanced at the overcrowded shelf and the piles of books around the flat. “If it’s too small for you, why don’t you find another place?”

“Because if there’s one thing I hate more than this apartment, it’s packing,” you said. “If I’m gonna move out, there has to be a really good reason.”

* * *

If you had any fears about things becoming awkward after yesterday, they had vanished rather quickly. For a while now, it was so easy to talk with Steve and thankfully, this night didn’t seem any different, either. The sight of him standing in your kitchen, beating eggs up in a bowl made you smile. It was the first time he was in your apartment, but it didn’t feel weird at all. Being around him and doing such ordinary things like making dinner felt so natural, as if you had been doing this every single day. 

It was funny to remember that less than a year ago, you could have drowned him in a teaspoon of water. _How did you get here from there?_ He used to infuriate you, making your days a little more insufferable—but now as he stood in front of your stove as if he belonged there, you couldn’t stop thinking about how grateful you were that he stepped into your life. Building a career had always been the first priority for you, and while you still wouldn’t give up on it for anything, now you saw that there could be a room for something - _or someone_ \- else too. There was a time when you didn’t even try to fight for your relationships if your goals were at the tiniest risk, losing friends and lovers in the process. It hurt, but back then, it seemed to be the right decision. 

You felt somewhat different today—still wanting to pursue your dreams but seeing the possibility of compromising for someone. The fact that Steve was the one who awakened these feelings in you was_insane_. After all, you weren’t officially dating, and you had only started getting closer to each other a couple of months ago. Maybe that was normal for other people, but usually, it took you a long time to develop strong emotions. For some inexplicable reason, it was different with Steve. 

While you set up the table, Steve added the eggs to the vegetables you had cut earlier. He looked ridiculously big in your tiny kitchen and every time you moved to get something, you unintentionally brushed against each other. 

“What’s so funny?” 

Steve’s eyes were on the task, stirring the eggs and veggies across the pan, but you could see the small smile on his lips that widened after your question.

“Every time I make something in a pan Sarah asks me to make them fly.” 

“And can you?”

“Sometimes,” Steve said. “They end up on the floor more often though.” 

You laughed, tucking a napkin under the edge of a plate, before stepping closer to him. “Let me show you,” you said, reaching out. Steve offered you the pan but instead of taking it away from him, you placed your hand on top of his. “The secret is that you don’t have to throw it up to the ceiling. Just shove it, like this,” you instructed, giving the pan just enough push so the food flipped over. It surprised you how easily he relinquished the control, letting you be in charge of his movements. 

Steve lifted his gaze at you while your fingers were still closed around his, your body pressed to his side. Memories of last night flooded his mind and he felt his cheeks heating up. How nice it felt to have his arms around you, wishing he could hold you all night. The feeling of the soft tip of your fingers, tracing along his jawline. The happy glint in your eyes, the blazing look in their depth. Steve wanted to kiss you so badly. Looking back, he wasn’t sure how he could hold himself back—how he could _still_ keep himself back, trying not to burn the food instead of kissing you like there was no tomorrow. 

“It’s the same with pancakes,” you said after Steve looked away and you let go of his hand, stepping back. “Or crêpes.” 

“It looks less impressive.”

You hummed, finishing setting up the table. “You know what else is impressive? Getting the food on my plate instead of swiping it up from the floor.” 

“Well, that’s fair.” 

“You can present it to Sarah tomorrow.”

The change in his features was immediate. Although he was still smiling, it seemed less sincere than a minute ago, before it disappeared for good. He clenched his jaw, and when he spoke up, his voice was quieter than before. “Or two weeks from tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Only quiet music and the sound of sizzling food filled the kitchen as you paused, wondering whether you should ask what you wanted to or not, noticing it was something that made him uncomfortable. Before you could decide, Steve continued. 

“She’s in the UK with her mother. Her family lives in Hampshire,” he explained, switching off the stove. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, shovelling the food onto two plates from the pan, but Steve merely waved.

“It’s okay. She’s with me most of the year. Two weeks isn’t the end of the world.” 

Steve tried to shrug it away and act like it was nothing, but it sounded more like he was only reassuring himself. Two weeks really didn’t seem that long, and if you wanted to be honest, you weren’t sure what bothered him so much. Was it that he had to spend the holidays without his daughter, that she was with her mother thousands of miles away, or the fact that he won’t see her for weeks? Or all of the above. 

“Does it mean you’re spending Christmas alone?”

“No,” Steve replied while you both sat down, across from each other at the small, round table. “I’ll be with Becca and her family. She’s Bucky’s sister. We’re there every year, actually.”

Digging into your food, you took the opportunity to change the subject to something more cheerful. “You’re really close, aren’t you? Bucky and you.” It wasn’t the first time you heard his name from Steve. 

“Yeah. You know, we grew up together. He’s like a brother to me.” 

“Is he bringing Nat to Barnes' Christmas party? I remember she said something about meeting his family soon.” 

“Yeah. I guess so.”

Steve’s voice was so unimpressed, almost bitter even, it made you frown. “Are you not happy for them?”

“No, I am, I’m just…” Steve paused, sighing. “You know, I’ve known Bucky since we were kids. I know many people think he’s just a ladies’ man, but in truth, he’s a hopeless romantic. He’s been like this ever since he was old enough to chase girls. He falls in love way too easily and then he gets hurt. Every time. At this point it’s just too painful to watch.”

“Maybe it’s different now,” you offered, but Steve shook his head. 

“That’s what he keeps telling me. But how could he know?”

The answer came too quickly, too easily. “I guess sometimes you just know.”

That made Steve fall silent. His eyes softened and the corner of his lips twitched up, but he glanced down and returned to his food before his tiny smile could grow into an ear-to-ear grin. You wondered if your words made him think of you; if his feelings for you deepened just as quickly and strongly as yours for him. 

After helping you to clean up the mess in the kitchen, Steve looked around the apartment while you made some coffee. He smiled when he found the Funko Pops and took his time to read the titles off the books’ spines. 

“We’ve talked a lot about books,” he said, picking up a novel that was lying upside down on the coffee table—probably your current read, he thought. “But you’ve never mentioned you read so much romance.” 

“Yeah, they’re kind of like my guilty pleasures.” 

Steve opened his mouth to ask what did you mean by that, but all the words stuck on his throat when he ran his eyes through the first couple lines where the book was left open. He knew erotica was a much bigger part of romance nowadays, but he didn’t expect it to be so explicit. 

“I’ve never read them before, but Angie said I was missing out,” you continued while approaching Steve, who quickly put the book back down. He took the cup from you and thanked you for the coffee, joining you on the couch. “Now she keeps recommending these stories to me and they’re… not always good, but I still enjoy them. I love sci-fi but they can be really heavy. Sometimes I just want something simple to read, and it’s really easy to turn my mind off with these books, you know?”

Steve nodded, though he had no idea how anyone could turn their mind off while reading something so salacious. 

“So, what would you like to watch?” You asked, picking up a DVD from under a book on the coffee table. “How about The Princess Bride?”

There was a shift in your features and Steve could pinpoint the exact moment when you realized. _It was him._

“Oh my God,” you said, burying your face in your free hand. “I got this from you, right? You gave me all those presents?!”

Steve nodded with a short chuckle. “That was me.”

You couldn’t do anything but stare at him, loss of words; jaw dropped but somehow still smiling. It crossed your mind before that it could be him, hoped for it even. Maybe the reason why you had always dismissed the idea was that you didn’t want to be disappointed if it turned out that someone else was the “secret admirer”, not Steve.

There were a million things you wanted to say to him, and yet, the only one you could ask was:

“Why did you do it anonymously?” 

Steve was taken aback by your question, you could see. Squirming in his seat, he visibly struggled with putting his thoughts into words. After a few seconds of hesitation, he sighed, as if he finally let it go and decided to tell you the truth. 

“Once you told me you were having bad days, like anyone else, but I could never tell when you were feeling down. You made a good job hiding it. So I just started leaving them because… I don’t know. I hoped they could make your day better. Didn’t matter they were from me.”

All this time you were convinced that whoever gave you those presents, they did it to win your heart. And while it could still play a part in it, you never would have thought someone did it _only_ to put a smile on your lips. Steve expected nothing in return; he left you surprises for no other reason but to make your day a little brighter. 

If you hadn’t fallen head over heels for him before, you definitely did now.

“Was it… too much?”

“No! No,” you said promptly, sitting closer to him. A light blush crept up his cheeks, but the sight of your eyes, gleaming with genuine happiness and excitement, made his doubts vanish. “I loved it. Everything. I don’t even know how to thank you for it.”

“You don’t have to,” Steve said calmly, brushing a loose strand of hair out of your face. His touch made your scalp tingling, goosebumps prickling all over your skin. “But how about that date?”

Your smile grew. “You know I would’ve said yes.”

Steve’s gaze flickered down to your lips, then back to your eyes. “And you know I wanted to kiss you.”

You felt your breath caught in your throat, but you didn’t hesitate much before you said,

“Well, we’re both sober now.”

A part of you feared that he would reject you again, but he didn’t waste a single second. His hand moved from your hair to your cheek, leaning closer until his lips met yours. 

Steve’s kiss was different from everything you had ever imagined; it was slow, tender, chaste. The kind of kiss that made you melt, hoping it would never end, and desperately craving for more. Now you were grateful to him that you could experience this with a clear head, because the touch of his soft lips alone was enough to make the whole world around you spin. His stubble scratched, just as you thought it would, making you smile. 

“What is it?” Steve asked, still cupping your cheeks as he whispered inches from your mouth. 

“Nothing.” Your nose brushed against his as you shook your head, before you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him back into a kiss.

The movie could definitely wait. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry for being so slow with the updates... hopefully this chapter will make up for the wait ;) Thank you for reading and commenting 💖💖

“I really don’t want to ruin the party,” you started, looking down at Angie who was sprawled out on your couch, balancing a nearly empty bowl of popcorn on her stomach. “But I have plans for tonight.” 

“Do you have a date or something?” She asked absent-mindendly, collecting crumbs from her shirt. The short second that you didn’t say anything was enough to make her head jerk up. “Oh my God, you do! I’ve been here all day and you forgot to mention you’re going on a date?!”

Of course you didn’t forget. In fact, it was all you could think about ever since you and Steve finally found a night when both of you would be free. It had been two weeks since you went back to work after the holidays, and while you saw each other daily at the company, you were thrilled to spend an evening with him that would be only about the two of you. 

But no matter how excited you were and how much you wanted to share your happiness with a friend, you decided to keep it to yourself. Angie had never given a reason not to trust her, but you knew a small slip of the tongue would be enough to start the worst rumours at work. Steve was your boss—you knew exactly how that must have sounded. It was for the best to stay quiet about it for a while. 

“Tell me who’s the lucky bitch,” Angie said, feverishly rubbing her palms together.

Collecting the empty plates and glasses you piled up in the past hours, you stifled a laugh, wondering what she would say if she knew who she just called a ‘lucky bitch’. “You don’t know him.”

“Oh, come on,” she pressed, following you into the kitchen. “You’re being too mysterious. I’m sure it’s someone I know.”

“I’m not being mysterious,” you replied, starting to wash the dishes to avoid her eyes. 

“Yes, you are,” she whined, resting her elbows on the edge of the sink and swaying on the balls of her feet. She sounded like she was in physical pain for not knowing who was your date. “I share a lot of dirty details of my relationship with you and you can’t even tell me a name.”

“I’ve never asked for those details.”

“Please,” she pleaded, barely hearing you. “You know you can tell me any—”

“But I don’t want to!” 

Angie had rarely seen you angry before, and never with her. It wasn’t easy to make you lose your temper, so when she heard your loud and tension filled voice, it immediately silenced her. The sound of the running water was deafening and you sighed, turning the tap off and wiping your hands dry. 

You didn’t mean to yell at her. The truth was, even though you did your best not showing it, you had been on the edge for days; terrified of tonight and terrified of what this relationship might bring to your way. For years, you had been purposefully avoiding dating, building your career and promising yourself you wouldn’t lose focus just for anything - or anyone. Then, like a bolt from the blue, Steve came into your life, and while you had no complaints, you still felt like he had turned your little world upside down. You loved what you had with him right now and you were eager to explore more, but it had been such a long time since you allowed someone into your life, romantically speaking—of course it made you feel a little tense. 

“Listen, I just don’t want to talk about it yet. We want to take it slow and it’s only our first date. I promise I’ll tell you everything, but first, let _us_ figure this out, okay?”

“Okay, okay,” she said, lifting her palms in defense. “I’m sorry. But at least let me help you choose a dress.”

* * *

Steve plopped down on his couch, letting his phone slip out from between his fingers while he sank back between the cushions, wishing they would swallow him whole. He should’ve known it wasn’t going to go smoothly, because when did anything go as planned in his life? Still, he clung to that last, thin string of hope that tonight could be different. 

His eyes fell on his daughter who stretched out the soft rug, surrounded by colorful pencils, humming along quietly with her favourite cartoon while she was drawing. A tired smile pulled on the corner of Steve’s lips. He was disappointed, yes, but not angry; how could he? Sarah was the first and she always will be—he made that promise at the day she was born and he intended to keep it. Anything good that may come to his life was a cherry on the top. 

But Steve wasn’t delusional. He was a single dad; he knew very well that dating would never be easy for him. There was a time when he had completely given up on it, convinced that it couldn’t work out, and that he could never fall in love again anyway. That was, of course, before he met _you_. 

Sighing, he picked his phone up. His thumb lingered over your name for a long minute, as if he knew this was going to be the end of something. A dreaded farewell. You’ll see how complicated life was by his side and you’ll run, and he won’t even blame you for it. 

Only after two short beeps, you answered his call, and Steve felt panic rising in his chest. He wasn’t ready. He didn’t want to lose you… 

“Well, you’re officially late. There’s a first time for everything.”

A faint smile flashed across his face, remembering your conversation from a mere day before. Hidden from curious eyes inside the moving elevator, standing a little closer to each other than it was necessary, you made him promise he would be on time tonight. Seven in the afternoon, sharp. “I’m never late,” Steve whispered into your ear then, stealing a quick, chaste kiss that left you grinning and biting down on that pretty bottom lip. Steve already missed the thrill of those moments. 

“I’m so sorry,” he said, feeling even more miserable than before because you didn’t sound offended at all. He was not only late; he was about to tell you that he couldn’t make it tonight. Would you be angry? Sad? Indifferent? He feared to find out, as none of these options sounded appealing. “We need to cancel tonight.”

“Oh.” Steve waited with bated breath for your reaction. One, two, three never-ending seconds. “Is something wrong?” 

“Sarah’s babysitter got sick and I couldn’t find anyone else.” Steve had truly tried everything—that was why he had only reached you so late. He called all of his friends, even Peggy, who wasn’t even in the country, as it turned out. It was Saturday night; everyone already had plans. “I’m so sorry. I really wanted this night.”

“It’s okay. I understand.” Steve heard a sad hum; your voice was now quieter. He was just about to say something, apologize again and say goodnight when you spoke up, “Why don’t we bring Sarah too?”

Steve froze. “Would… would that be okay for you?”

“Of course,” you said, and Steve felt warmth spreading through him as once again, he heard the excitement behind your words. “We probably lost the reservation in the restaurant, so maybe you two could come over? I can cook something.”

Steve argued. It was his fault in the first place, he said; he couldn’t expect you to start cooking now. He invited you over and asked what you would like to eat, quickly placing an order on his phone while he paced around the house, buzzing with excitement. Not exactly how he imagined the night would go, but it could still turn out great. 

* * *

Heart swollen with joy at the sight of your bright smile, he urged you in and welcomed the soft kiss you pressed on his cheek. Steve felt lightheaded at the moment you stepped through the doorstep, but it was nothing compared to what he experienced after he helped you out of your coat. He was sure you could hear when his breath hitched, but he couldn’t help it. The dress you wore, simple but elegant, showed skin off in just the right places and hugged your form delicately, perfectly. He couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering, taking you in from head to toe, standing with your coat and scarf in his hands, stunned. 

“I know, I’m a little overdressed,” you said, shifting your weight from one leg to another. “I just didn’t want to waste time finding another dress.”

“No—you’re beautiful,” Steve reassured, butterflies scattering around his stomach seeing his compliment restore your confidence. Now he wished he had put more effort into his outfit instead of ditching the suit he planned to wear to the restaurant, putting on the first dark jeans and navy button down that he found in his closet.

But judging by the way your eyes dropped down the length of his body, stepping closer to adjust his already perfectly standing collar and saying he looked great as well, you seemed just as pleased as he did.

“Oh, damn,” was all you could breathe out as you walked down the entrance hall, stepping into the wide, open space that included the living room, the kitchen, and the dining area as well. Everything seemed to have its place and you were sure if you touched any hidden shelves or tiny corners, there would be no dust coating the tip of your fingers. So tidy and clean, polished and shiny, you could eat off of the floor. “Do you want me to sanitize my hands or something before I touch anything?” 

Steve merely chuckled, watching you while you marveled at his home. 

There were no cold greys and sharp edges, and all things considered, it didn’t surprise you at all. _It was Steve._ Warm and inviting colours, a simple but cozy design. 

“My entire shoebox of an apartment could fit into your living room and I can’t keep that nearly as neat as this house is.”

“I can’t either,” he replied. “I have a housekeeper. You should see the desk in my office. Or my wardrobe.”

“Is that an invitation, Mr Rogers?”

Steve felt like all the air was sucked out of his lungs when you leaned against his side; teasing eyes boring into his. A pink blush flushed his cheeks, imagining all the different ways he could use his walk-in closet with you. He opened his mouth, but his throat felt too dry to speak and he could only guess how much of a fool he must have looked like that, gaping like a fish.

His gaze slowly moved to your lips and when he saw you licking them, heat shot straight through him.

But before he could soothe the burn, a loud and cheery voice made him jump back as Sarah stormed into the room. Steve let out a long, trembling breath, astonished by the effect you had on him. He took a few moments to collect himself while you leaned down to his daughter, complimenting her hair and brushing away the loose locks that escaped her braid. She was missing two of her front teeth now, which only made her wide grin mode adorable. 

“Your dress is really pretty,” she gushed, touching the soft fabric.

“Oh, thank you. Yours is beautiful too.”

Steve stepped closer with his hands on his hips. “Weren’t you wearing another one five minutes ago?” 

“I’ve changed my mind,” Sarah said proudly, spinning around to make her mint green tulle skirt flare up. She asked if you wanted to see her room and took your hand when you said yes, eagerly pulling you out of the living room.

Sarah’s room was one of the coolest kids’ rooms you had ever seen. A soft, small bed stood at the corner with a blush pink baldachin and matching covers, shelves packed with books and many toys. The fluffy beanbag and the slide were undoubtedly her favourites, along with the circular pit filled with all those colourful balls. Three of the four walls were a soft shade of blue but one was left white, where many different characters from Sarah’s favourite cartoons were painted up, from floor to ceiling. 

“I’ve never wanted to be a kid again this badly.”

She showed you her most treasured belongings—plush toys, dolls and books she loved, and even tried to coax you into the tiny ball pit. If only you didn’t wear a dress too risky to jump into that…

Food arrived shortly and while Steve set up the table, you listened to Sarah’s chatter about school and the holidays that she spent in England. Everything smelled amazing and your stomach gave a loud growl, which made both father and daughter laugh.

“I’d have offered to cook something,” Steve started while he pulled the boxes out of the bags, “but I figured it would be too early to scare you away.”

You chuckled at that. “Are you that bad?”

“Well, I can cook, but I’m sure it’d have ruined everything now.”

Biting back a smile, you wondered if that meant he was just as nervous as you were, when Sarah chimed in,

“Daddy can make a really big smoke in the kitchen!”

Steve’s face turned into the shade of a ripe tomato, sighing in defeat while you burst into a loud laugh. 

“It happened once,” he murmured, smiling as his embarrassment vanished and only something warmer, fuzzier stayed in its place. Perhaps Sarah will never stop sharing the most awkward moments of his life, but if it meant he could make your cheeks wet with tears of joy and your belly ache with laughter, he would be more than happy to make a fool of himself.

* * *

Dinner went smooth and nice and soon you had to realize you had nothing to be worried about; all the little doubts and fears you had earlier evaporated into thin air. Steve had shown you a side of him that you had already had the pleasure meeting with, that was so very different from what you had seen at work. The aloof, cold man who often looked so uncomfortable and out of place disappeared, giving place to someone else. And you loved this part of him. The real, true Steve, who didn’t need to hide behind titles and tight suits. He was so gentle, funny and calm; the tranquil aura he carried around him put you at ease with no effort. How could something that made you feel so good and content be bad for you?

With Sarah also there with you, it was impossible not to have a good time. She was as bubbly and talkative as she always was, but as the night went on, she got more and more silent. Steve had explained that they had spent the day with ice skating, along with Natasha and Bucky—she missed her afternoon nap and it was a miracle she was still awake. _She was very excited to see you_, Steve said, and it made your heart swell with warmth. 

She whined only a little when Steve told her it was time for bed, too sleepy and exhausted to argue. 

“Is she always so well-behaved?” You asked as Steve returned, cleaning up the table. 

“She can be a handful sometimes,” Steve smiled as he reached you, leaning against the kitchen island. “I’m sorry about this again. I really wanted this night to work out.”

“It worked out just fine,” you said, bringing your hand to rest on his upper arm and giving him a gentle squeeze. “At least I didn’t have to wear uncomfortable shoes all night.” 

A tender smile softened Steve’s features as he glanced down at your bare feet, covered only by the magenta guest slippers he’d received from Natasha. If he had to choose one thing out of the million he adored about you, he would have picked this one: you could find something good in everything. Sometimes he couldn’t see the forest for the trees, losing himself in the details, but not you—you _always _had a solution. That was what he admired about your work from the start, and now he felt lucky to experience it in your personal lives as well. 

“But you aren’t going home just yet, right? Sarah’s sleeping like a log so you can be as loud as you want to.”

The words had left Steve’s lips before he had enough time to think them over, only realizing how that must have sounded when they had already slipped out. 

“What do you plan to do with me that I have to be so loud about?” You asked, brows knitted in faked confusion.

“Oh, God, I didn’t mean like—” Steve started, flushed red, but you cut him off with a laugh. He dragged his palms down his face, sighing, but unable to stifle a smile when he saw how amused you looked. For a second, he thought about making a witty remark but then he realized it had been _too damn long_ to make jokes, and it tied his tongue. 

“Come,” he said, pushing himself away from the counter and hoping that you won’t point it out that he so swiftly changed the subject. “I’ll show you something.”

He led you out of the kitchen and through the living room, opening a door at the end of the corridor. He stepped away to let you in first, reaching in behind you to flick on the lights—and your jaw dropped. 

From what you had seen so far, Steve’s study was the biggest room in the flat. The same cozy atmosphere welcomed you here as well, dominated by deep, warm colours. Floor to ceiling bookshelves covered the two opposite walls, all of them heavily packed with books. A large desk stood in front of the window, cluttered with stacks of papers, folders, Steve’s computer, and a few empty mugs. He wasn’t lying—the other parts of the house were spotless, but his desk was a huge mess. 

Stopping by a very comfortable looking leather armchair, you sighed. “This is my dream.”

“I thought you’d like it.”

“Oh, no, you don’t understand. If I move out of my apartment in the future, this is going to be the first on my list. A home library.”

An unexpected, sudden urge to kiss you washed over Steve. Maybe it was the simplicity of the moment he longed for so much, or maybe it was because of how mesmerizing you looked like that, standing in awe with sparkling eyes and a captivating smile. 

“Are these yours?” 

The question shook Steve out of his reverie, and as he followed your gaze, finding what you were looking at, he froze. Half of the bookshelf farthest from the entrance was filled with art supplies—pencils and brushes, different kinds of paints in all colours, knives, palettes and stocks of empty papers. He was still silent when you picked up his latest sketch he left on the small coffee table, your eyebrows slowly rising.

“Wait—did you paint on Sarah’s wall too?”

Steve lifted his hand, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I did.” 

“How’s that possible that you have never even mentioned that you’re an artist?”

“I’m not—really, it’s nothing.” 

“It’s _not_ nothing! You are crazy talented,” you pressed, but Steve only smiled, staring at the floor. “Seriously, you should do this for a living.”

“Can we talk about something else?” He asked quietly but sharply, finally looking up. “Please.”

Steve could see that his words caught you off guard; surprise and confusion both mixed on your features. 

“Of course,” you said, putting his drawing back down on the table. “I’m sorry, Steve. Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no, you didn’t, it’s just…” he paused, sighing. There were things he hadn’t told you yet and he definitely didn’t want to dump them on you now. “Just some bad memories. I don’t want to ruin the night with this.” 

“Don’t you ever worry about that,” you said, putting a hand on his face and brushing your thumb across his cheek. “You can talk to me about anything, you know?”

Steve smiled, leaning into your touch for a second before he pulled your hand away, pressing a kiss on your knuckles.

“I know. Just… let’s leave this for another time, okay?”

* * *

The mood eased quickly once you returned to the living room with some wine and quiet music. You laughed and talked freely - about everything and nothing in particular - but it didn’t escape your notice that each time there were a few moments of silence, Steve looked anxious. He fiddled with non-existent loose threads of his jeans or adjusted the watch on his wrist for the millionth time—anything to avoid your eyes.

“Are you okay?” You asked, wanting to make sure he didn’t feel uncomfortable. “You look a little nervous.”

He let out a short, breathy laugh, wondering whether he was so obvious or if it was only you who saw through him so well. “Yeah. I just… I haven’t dated in a while.”

You hesitated a little before you replied, “Well, if it makes you feel better, I haven’t either.”

Steve frowned, but as a memory popped up in his mind, he realized he shouldn’t be surprised at all. He remembered when you had told him about valuing your alone time and that you wouldn’t exchange it for anything less. It made his nerves settle, knowing you wouldn’t be here with him right now if that wasn’t something you were completely sure about. 

There was something else you had said back then, he recalled: _If someone comes, they have to be really special._ The thought involuntarily lifted the corner of his lips. 

“What are you smiling at?”

Steve shook his head, and instead of saying a word, he leaned in to capture your lips with his.

Kissing Steve easily made you lose track of time. He was slow and attentive, paying attention to every little gasp and twitch, exploring and remembering what made you tremble with pleasure. He had kissed you before, but never like this. Deep, searing, hungry. It made your head spin and left you yearning for more, sending your pulse racing so loudly in your ears you couldn’t hear anything else. 

Lips still sealed to yours, Steve leaned forward, pressing you back against the armrest of the couch. The warm, heavy weight of him felt good, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted him closer, desperately so, to ease the heat that built deep in your belly. 

Steve pulled back; maybe he wanted to say something, maybe just to catch his breath, but for a few seconds, time seemed to stop. He watched you, lips swollen and cheeks flushed, pupils blown so wide you couldn’t see the blue of his eyes. There was nothing but desire in his gaze and you figured he must have found something similar in yours, because the next time he kissed you, he didn’t hold back. 

The tingling sensation on your chin was a reminder of how long the two of you laid there, lost in each others’ touches. Steve’s breathing became erratic against your neck as you pulled his shirt out of his jeans, sliding your hands under the material so you could feel the muscles of his back under your fingertips. He kissed the soft skin under your ear, down your neck and your collarbone, before he moved back to your lips. Goosebumps broke out all over you when his hand wandered up your thigh, under your dress; his thumb drawing tender circles. 

You ached to feel more of his bare skin on yours, smooth and heated. Hands moving to the front of his shirt, you started to undo the buttons; carefully, hoping he wouldn’t notice how wobbly your fingers became. 

That was when you noticed—you weren’t the only one who quivered, but your small shudders of pleasure were nothing compared to Steve’s. He was shaking like a leaf, short waves washing through him. His grip was less tight, his kisses no longer as bold as before. 

“Are you okay?” You asked for the second time that night, cupping his cheek with one hand to look into his eyes. 

Steve nodded silently, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, then another one before he pulled away and sat up on the couch. He leaned back against the cushions, heaving a long sigh and dragging his hands down his face. 

You weren’t sure what to say or what to do. He looked shaken, fragile even, and you hated the thought that perhaps you were the cause of it. Was it something you said? Did you make him feel rushed? He seemed to change his mind so abruptly, without any warning… 

But when he finally opened his eyes and turned to you, there was nothing but a bashful smile on his lips.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said as you sat up, smoothing out your dishevelled dress. He panted softly, a thin layer of sweat covering his forehead. “I… Do you mind if we stop here?”

“Of course not,” you replied, still a little dazed. “Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Steve said honestly. “I just haven’t done this in a while, you know? I guess it was a little too much suddenly.”

Up until that moment, it hadn’t even crossed your mind that perhaps he hadn’t been intimate with anyone since his ex-wife. It seemed evident now. No wonder why he had felt so overwhelmed from what you just did. 

“It’s okay, Steve.” You wanted to give him a reassuring hug, but you weren’t sure that he wanted to be touched. “We can slow down.”

He let out a shaky breath and when he spoke up, his voice was small. “Sorry. I really wanted to—I really want you. I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Stop this,” you said softly, inching closer. “Do you think I’d feel guilty and keep apologizing if it was the other way around?”

“Well—no.” 

“You don’t have to, either. It’s okay if you want to take things slow.” You smiled as Steve took your hand, gently squeezing. “And you didn’t disappoint me at all. I had a really great time tonight.” 

Steve smiled, leaning in to kiss you. He felt terrible, disappointed in himself, but your sweet words soothed all of his worries away. If it wasn’t you, he knew he would’ve completely freaked out in a similar situation. 

But it was you. And that was all that mattered. 


End file.
